


Involvement

by KivaTaliana



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Developing Relationship, F/M, First draft of the story so forgive the mistakes, M/M, Pulling through a few random story snippets together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 56,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15099218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaTaliana/pseuds/KivaTaliana
Summary: Omegas are rare, precious and hunted.  The Musketeers encounter one that draws more than a little attention, and brings more than one problem with him.





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One 

The King was growing impatient, Treville could see that, he wanted to hunt, and the trip had been arranged yesterday, as the mood took him. The Queen looked just as curious as to what was holding the event up, not that she had much interest in hunting, but Treville got the feeling she liked getting out of the palace. 

"Are you sure?" he asked the Musketeer giving the report. 

"It seems to be the case." 

Treville gritted his teeth and went over to the King. 

"What is it? I want to hunt!" 

Treville fingered the cloth and distinct smelling bottle. "It would appear someone has beaten you to it, Your Majesty. From what the scouts say a hunt is in progress."

"Well, they can't! I'm the King. This is my forest, I want to hunt!" 

Treville winced. "Your Majesty, the evidence suggests it's an omega hunt."

The King looked confused, slightly outraged and petulant. "What? I thought those were illegal! They were made so. My father made the law!" 

"That does not always stop them from happening Your Majesty. As we arranged this trip quite late they were probably not expecting an interruption such as this. It appears it has only just started. They seem to be chasing him up to the high ground. We can probably intercept him if we track him through the section of forest we came in by."

"Him?" the King asked his interest clearly piqued. The Queen shifted slightly. 

"As far as the scent tells us, there is also this, however." 

As Treville held up the small glass vial he knew the scent of it was carrying on the breeze. The King's nostrils flared and the Queen leant back in her chair trying to evade it. She put a hand to her mouth and nose and Treville immediately stepped back to take it from her range. One of the ladies-in-waiting stepped forward to give the Queen a handkerchief, she pressed it to her mouth and nose for protection. 

"He's been given that!" the Queen said her voice muffled but her distress and anger was clear. 

"We can presume Your Majesty. It is freshly used, so if we can find him in time we can cool him down before the rut becomes too much for him."

"They intend to...Treville, omegas are rare, why do they waste them like this!" the King hissed at him. "Richelieu, cannot the church deal with this." 

"As Captain Treville says, it is not a simple matter. Perhaps we should simply deal with finding the omega, and the Queen should be escorted away." 

"What!" the King's eyes widened, the Queen straightened in her seat. 

"If the males of the hunt become too inflamed, and if they pick up the Queen's scent..." Richelieu said. 

"Which makes it safer to leave her here, she is with her own alpha and your guards and my Musketeers are around her. She is safer with them than sending her off with a small escort," Treville argued. "You five, stay with the party here." 

The men he indicated to nodded and started to spread out. Treville turned to the Cardinal. 

"Your guards should stay here, the King and Queen still need to be kept safe." 

The Cardinal seemed to calculate that. "Perhaps we are best to combine our efforts, some of your men and my men deal with catching the omega. Or maybe some of your Musketeers should track down the hunters."

And leave the omega open to being claimed by the Red Guards. If they caught him, and decided that the only way to deal with his rut was to lay with him, one of them could claim him, or a group of them could. It hadn't been Treville's first thought, but now it had been put in his head. He wouldn't object to getting another omega into the Musketeer ranks, he was lucky to have half a dozen, but they were grossly outnumbered by the alphas and betas. His men were too controlled to cause a problem over such a disparity but everywhere the disparity of the castes was obvious. 

"That may spread us too thin; plus, find the omega, the hunters will come to us. Once he's secured somewhere safe, we can wait for them. But you are right, we need to cover as much ground as we can, quickly." Treville was prepared to work with the Cardinal to achieve the simple end of catching the perpetrators of the hunt and saving the omega in question. 

The Cardinal nodded, turning to give his guards orders. Treville turned to the Musketeers, particularly the three lingering nearby. 

"Find that omega, quickly. It will be easier for him if we can calm him, before his situation goes too far."

"And if not, we're a better option than those lot," Porthos rumbled. "He gets taken by them he'll spend his life strapped to a breeding bench."

"Even if they do catch him, make sure they don't run him to rut, if it's possible to stop it. Aramis is the best trained physician among anyone here."

Aramis inclined his head, with a slight smirk. 

"Go."

The men needed no further orders and the rest of the Musketeers followed them. Treville checked his gun. It was highly unlikely that any of the hunters would risk heading this way, but he would lead the defence if it proved necessary. Both the king and queen looked agitated, but for different reasons. Louis felt concerned over his lack of hunting, Anne felt concerned for the hunted omega. 

"Captain Treville?" 

"Your Majesty," he turned to her. 

"Will your men find him?" 

It was not lost on him, and nor the Cardinal, that she didn't include the Red Guard. That the queen trusted the Musketeers more. Treville nodded. 

"Porthos, Athos and Aramis are the best, they'll find him, and they will protect him." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

d'Artagnan smiled as he realised his instinct hadn't failed him. The ravine ran down to a small stream. It wasn't much, he certainly couldn't lose his scent in it, but something small was likely to grow larger. If he followed it, moving from side to side, it might make the chase a little difficult. Plus the cool water could recede the rut before it started. He jogged lightly down the gentle incline and crouched down, scooping water into his hand and running over the bare skin of his arms and torso before putting his cooled hand to the back of his neck and holding it there briefly. 

The relief wouldn't last long. He could feel the drug working, his skin warming, sweat starting to form, his body prickling with a growing need that he would soon be unable to ignore. He tilted his head as he heard a sound behind him. d'Artagnan stayed crouched, easing himself round and crawling up the incline to peer over. He could see several shadows making their way through the trees, the hunters were following his scent. d'Artagnan slid back down and ran down the slope, following the small stream. 

Athos put a hand out to stop Porthos from leaping forward. 

"Let him go." 

"He might run into the red guards."

"No, he won't," Athos said. "We'll get him before then. You two pick these lot out, reduce the pack. I'll tail our little omega." 

He turned back to look at the pair as they both growled. 

"Focus," Athos said. "Our objective is to keep him safe not start fighting over him. Once his pursuers are gone, we can bring him in. I'll ensure no others get to him." 

d'Artagnan moved down the stream, pausing as he heard a sound from behind him. He kept moving, but warily. Athos watched him pause occasionally. His instinct told him that the boy had no idea he was following, but every sound made him pause. He was good, however, Athos concluded. The boy's movements were decisive, and precise. He stayed aware of the hunters moving through the forest and took any possible opportunity to use the stream to cool down. Athos planned to wait until the boy had moved further downstream. There was no need to panic him just yet, he was moving the direction Athos needed him to go. For a few minutes, he stayed behind, the boy seemed far more focussed on the direction the hunters would come from. 

He paused again by a deep pool of water, thrusting his hands into the water before cupping them and splashing his face and torso, rubbing one hand on the back of his neck. Athos inhaled as he inched closer, realising the boy's scent was rising, the rut taking a deeper hold. He halted, staying still for a moment as he sensed the movement. d'Artagnan paused and also turned as he realised there was someone close by. 

Three Red Guard stepped from the trees and grinned at d'Artagnan. 

"There you are, pretty boy," the leader announced. 

Athos watched as the man moved forward, thinking to easily claim his prize. He stayed within the shadows, and watched as the omega tensed his back, shifting his weight under him, so when he sprang up he slammed his hand into the approaching man's gut, and he pushed him back. The guard he planned to push him into jumped back, but it put him out of position to try and contain him. D'Artagnan eased back, trying to ignore the shuddering of his muscles as the heat surged through them. He readied himself for another attack, showing a confidence he didn't entirely feel about facing three alphas. All three advancing men paused, their eyes moving to d'Artagnan's right. He glanced the same way to see the man emerge from the trees, carefully loading his gun, hardly looking at the three alpha's opposite. 

Athos finished loading his gun and looked up, staring at the three alphas. He didn't speak, he just watched them carefully. 

"You think you Musketeers are going to have him?" 

Athos' penetrating gaze turned momentarily to d'Artagnan, and the omega frowned, moving back so he could keep them all in view. Athos turned his gaze back to his three opponents. 

"That's entirely up to him," Athos said. "But you're not about to have him." 

Athos fired a second before the leader, who flew backwards as the bullet slammed into his shoulder. Athos had no intention of killing anyone unless he had to. d'Artagnan tensed, wondering if he could run. He backed up, intending to head for the trees as the two other men drew their guns. Then they paused as there were sounds behind them. 

Porthos and Aramis stepped from the trees. 

"There is another group moving down the ravine, they appear to have found his trail," Porthos said. "Half a dozen of them." 

Athos turned to look at d'Artagnan. 

"Stay." 

d'Artagnan frowned. "I'm not a dog." 

Athos raised his eyebrows. "No, you're not," he agreed. The Red Guards smirked. 

"We can watch him," they offered. Athos glowered. Porthos reached out and grabbed the two men, slamming their heads together hard. They both went down without a sound. Porthos looked pleased with himself. Neither Athos nor Aramis paid him much heed, however, d'Artagnan eyed them all warily. 

"There's a small ravine just east, if we keep travelling down the river it opens out. That might work to contain them." 

"Which involves using the boy as bait," Aramis told Athos. d'Artagnan glowered. 

"'The boy' can speak for himself!" he announced. Athos turned to look at him. It was hard to read his eyes from under the brim of his hat. d'Artagnan, however, kept his eyes on the lead alpha, trying to work out what his next move ought to be. 

"Very well, follow the trail east. Porthos flank left, Aramis take the high ground, pick of anyone who gets too close. Off you go then," Athos said inclining his head, looking down to start reloading his pistol. d'Artagnan frowned, backing up slightly, and glancing at the other two men. Aramis shrugged, before turning and heading into the trees, patting Porthos on the shoulder as he passed him. Porthos turned and headed in the direction Athos had told him. 

D'Artagnan hesitated, and the Alpha looked at him again. 

"You have some issue with the plan? I presumed you would prefer to be part of it rather than cosseted along the way. Are there any changes you wish to make?" 

He watched the omega blink, look around and then looked at the trail down, where Athos had indicated.

"And where will you be?" 

"Right behind you," Athos said. "Keep moving, as you reach the ravine take the right hand bank, although it looks more difficult the incline is higher, it will be harder for anyone to reach you. Captain Treville is likely to be waiting at the lower end. He's trustworthy." 

Again the omega blinked at the information. He glanced around and then back at Athos, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the information, Athos himself and the slight challenge in the whole scenario. d'Artagnan felt the ripples of heat running across his skin. The alpha was upwind, which didn't help as the breeze started to pick up. After another second of eye contact d'Artagnan turned and started to head towards the ravine. Athos waited for a moment before checking his gun and then following behind the omega. 

D'Artagnan seethed as he ran. He didn't need rescuing! As he had pointed out to the alpha who had now instigated d'Artagnan assisting them in rescuing him. Although he had to admit, he wasn't going to get too far the way he was dressed, and the heat was starting to become difficult. Not overwhelming as yet, but he knew it wasn't far off, and with a forest full of alphas and betas he probably wouldn't survive on his own. 

He paused a little way down, crouching as he saw shadows in the trees. Dipping his hand into the water, he let the cooling liquid surge around his wrist before scooping up a handful and splashing his face. His eyes narrowed as he saw one shadow moving behind the others, lashing out to take hold of one of the hunters. Judging by the size of the attacking shadow d'Artagnan took it to be the huge Musketeer he had met a few minutes ago. Glancing back d'Artagnan located the subtle shadow that indicated Athos' location. He didn't move any closer, but the alpha was no doubt ready to take out any others who went near him. However, cool and congenial the man might be, he was still dictating what d'Artagnan did. Not that he could do anything about it; that was the part that made him seethe. 

Getting up he carried on, using the protection of the ravine to keep himself hidden from the hunters, also knowing that if any of them came too close the alpha behind him would deal with them. D'Artagnan could handle himself competently enough, his father had made sure of that, not wanting his omega son to be taken advantage of. He clenched his jaw and picked up the pace. He wasn't quite sure what he would find at the end. It was quite clear he wasn't getting away completely, but he couldn't deal with everything in one go. What he had to do was get away from the hunters and get his heat under control. 

He moved down towards the stream, leaning down to dunk his hands into the stream, up to his wrists. The water refreshed him, the heat was getting worse. Looking up and down he assessed the best direction to take. He could traverse in the stream for a while. He was wearing nothing but his loose cotton underwear, and his boots, so his feet were protected from the stones, and he could stay in contact with the water. But there would be a danger of reversing the heat to a fatal degree, cooling him to the point that he would get colder and colder. 

Cupping his hands he poured some over his shoulders and down his back. He was probably safe enough, now he had someone on his tail who was very unlikely to let anything happen to him. Not that d'Artagnan was particularly pleased about being in the debt of any alpha; there was a flicker of something trustworthy about the one behind him, and the other two with him. Getting up he moved to follow the trail he had been on, keeping himself sheltered in the ravine for as long as he could. Taking one bend in the river he paused and looked up, the main pathway was rising upwards into the forest, the lower trail thinned, looking difficult to navigate. d'Artagnan turned, locating the Musketeer moving behind him. 

With a flick of his hand he indicated that d'Artagnan should take the upper trail. It looked the most logical, and the man clearly knew the area. In the end, d'Artagnan didn't think it was worthwhile quibbling, and he headed up the route that Athos indicated. 

Athos stayed behind him, a discreet distance away, essentially herding d'Artagnan the way he wanted him to go.

Without much in the way of immediate options, d'Artagnan allowed himself to be herded. 

Options would come later.


	2. Chapter Two

When the Musketeers got him back to the main hunting party, d'Artagnan was sweating heavily, and he stumbled as he felt the wave of gathered alphas and betas. Treville caught his arm to stop him falling to the floor, and he walked him forward, towards the king's tent, which had been cleared. The king was pacing up and down, looking annoyed, until his eyes fixed on d'Artagnan. Then he stopped ranting and instead stared intently at the omega, his nostrils flaring as he picked up the scent. 

The Queen caused a further distraction in coming out from the royal tent. 

"Bring him in here, we have water." 

Treville bundled him inside and d'Artagnan found himself taken in hand by several ladies in waiting and the Queen of France. 

"No!" he objected quite strenuously when one adventurous lady tried to remove his underwear and he pulled his leg away as another reached for his boots. "I'd rather keep what little I have left on, if you don't mind." 

With a wave of her hand the Queen halted that procedure, but they wrapped what they could of him in cloth. D'Artagnan watched, trying to blink the sweat away as it dripped down from his forehead. 

"These may work better Your Majesty," Treville announced handing her two thick Musketeer cloaks. 

"Thank you, yes. We need more water. The heat can still be calmed, but we need to act swiftly." 

"If it goes beyond that, we can hopefully limit the attention." 

D'Artagnan tensed with alarm. The Queen turned, wetting down one of the heavy cloaks and wrapping it around d'Artagnan. 

"Captain Treville will not let it come to that," she informed him. "Neither will the king. You cooled yourself in the stream as you moved down?" 

"Yes," d'Artagnan said, tucking himself deeper into the cooling effect of the cloak. As the material moved over his skin he caught a waft of scent and recognised the owner of the cloak. The Musketeer, Athos. The second was Treville's. Both scents were strong, which was equally settling and disconcerting. And it could quite possibly be that they simply planned to get their scent on him, but that did seem overly complicated, even to d'Artagnan. But the scents made his breath hitch. 

"Here," the Queen pulled out her handkerchief and offered it to him to breath in, which would dilute the scent of the alphas. d'Artagnan watched warily, while taking in the Queen's scent. 

"More water!" the Queen demanded and clearly she was not about to allow an unknown alpha near him. The ladies-in-waiting hung around, but clearly stayed on sufferance. d'Artagnan looked up at the well poised woman, who seemed to be putting all of her energies into keeping him calm. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent, and his own. 

"As Your Majesty requests; and I need to check his wounds. I will be an utter gentlemen, but I may be able to help," Aramis said, bringing in water, a third cloak and himself. 

"Alphas will not help him."

"On the contrary, one or two might help," Aramis said. 

"Only if the omega trusts them, and you haven't done quite enough for that!" the Queen told him. 

"Apologies Your Majesty, but I am the only competent physician here, and that cut would be better for stitches, and nothing untoward will happen to him in your company, or mine." 

The Queen frowned, looking a little unsure how to deal with Aramis, then she was distracted as she heard the sound of horses. 

"What is going on?" 

"The king is getting his hunt, even if it is a little unorthodox," Aramis said. The Queen looked a little alarmed until Athos' voice drifted into the tent. 

"The Musketeers are with him, including the Captain, we are staying here with you." 

"And the red guard," the Queen asked, lowering her voice a little furtively. 

"Very prominent, but they have to get through us, and we can get him settled, he is clearly not as far gone into rut as they would like. Athos will do that to a person."

There was an irritated cough from outside the tent, and a low chuckle. The Queen nodded, clearly conceding she could not do all the work herself. She looked down at d'Artagnan, who again calculated the odds of fighting now or waiting to choose his moment; and he conceded to Aramis with a brief nod. Aramis knelt down. 

"First things first, how do you feel?" 

"Warm, but it's settling." 

"Good. Water. And another cloak to the cause." 

"Yours," the Queen said disapprovingly. 

"We only have two omegas with us, and all things considered, they are better off holding onto their own scents. They are familiar. Ours will not only be put to calming him, but also masking him." 

The Queen nodded, and kept her own scent close to d'Artagnan's nose. It held the subtle scent of the king, but it was intertwined with hers. Oddly, d'Artagnan noted, there was only one alpha scent on her. He didn't really connect that considering his addled senses. Most omegas had two or three, even the occasional beta, as there were many more alphas than omegas, and it made life easier for one omega to have several alphas to fight off any other unwanted suitors. d'Artagnan had never had that luxury. Or at least, he had had enough alphas, just never any faithful ones. 

"Porthos, more water," Aramis called to the man outside the tent. Then he moved away slightly as the Queen wrapped the third cloak around d'Artagnan's torso. As she stepped away Aramis took hold of d'Artagnan's arm and moved it to examine the gash on his bicep.

"I slipped on the pathway," d'Artagnan explained. Aramis shrugged, and started to clean the wound. 

"I will stitch it," he said, frowning as he caught sight of another scar running over the inside of d'Artagnan's forearm. He released his grip on d'Artagnan's arm the moment he felt the tension, although Aramis pretended he didn't notice, and instead made it look he was looking for a needle. 

"This shouldn't be too bad," Aramis said, as he threaded the needle and moved sideways, to get better access. D'Artagnan winced as the needle went into his arm, but he didn't move. After a few stitches, Aramis added. "You're a better patient than Porthos." 

"What?" Porthos asked. 

"Never mind," Aramis said. Aramis pulled a face at d'Artagnan that was presumably to make him smile. He didn't react. Aramis frowned, assessed him and then went back to concentrating on stitching the wound. The Queen remained close, clearly unconcerned as to how she would deal with any of the alphas around her. They would not make any unorthodox advances, she was familiar to them, and she was the King's omega. Although they were not intimate with her, she was surrounded by familiar alphas. There were alphas as well as betas in her ladies-in-waiting and the guard rotation around her contained as many familiar scents as possible. 

She lingered closely, watching Aramis for any signs of inappropriate behaviour, although she knew that was unlikely. The Musketeers were too well controlled for that sort of thing. She moved around them to go to the door of the tent to peer out. Athos glanced at her and nodded politely. 

"Your Majesty. Do you need anything?"

"No, I just wanted to check." 

"The Red Guard are present, but they do have to get through us," Athos assured her. Porthos chuckled dangerously. 

"And me," the Queen added. 

"Of course Your Majesty. I do believe that the heat has cooled considerably," Aramis commented. 

"Indeed," Athos said. "When the king returns from his hunt, we should be able to move." 

D'Artagnan said nothing. He had no idea where they might take him, once they got to Paris. They clearly would not want him going anywhere unattended, as an omega he had no such freedom as to choose. However, the Queen clearly though more of the Musketeers than the Red Guard, and Athos, Porthos and Aramis clearly had good self-control. 

It was a measure of how he might be treated. Athos had been quite happy to run the gauntlet alone, or trust him to go the right way, while he followed. Still, that did not mean that d'Artagnan had to trust him. 

He jerked his head up and tensed as hoof beats thudded nearer. Aramis didn't bother to look up. The Queen popped her head out of the tent again, to see the main troop riding back. 

"The thrill of the chase, Captain!"

"I'll have those men escorted to the Chatelet," Treville's voice announced. 

"Perhaps we should run them back to Paris, see how they like it. Is our little omega fine and well?" 

d'Artagnan tensed at the king's tone of voice. 

"His heat has settled Your Majesty, he may be well enough to ride back," Athos said. "He could be housed at the garrison for the time being, we have been with him since the hunt, so he is used to our scent." 

"Quite. And your men will be discreet." 

"The Musketeers have the discipline," Treville said. "And Athos, Porthos and Aramis can stay with him as bodyguards." 

d'Artagnan listened to the conversation about him, but would not involve him. He gritted his teeth and exhaled heavily. Aramis glanced up and but clearly decided not to comment.

"The Red Guard would be just as capable," another voice announced irritably. 

D'Artagnan watched Aramis raise his eyebrows curiously. The Queen huffed. After a moment Aramis caught d'Artagnan's eye. 

"Without meaning to sound arrogant," he said. "You are better at the Garrison." 

d'Artagnan blinked, glancing at the Queen, who was listening intently to the conversation outside. It was only d'Artagnan that saw the mild tension ripple through her as she heard Louis announced. 

"He'd be safe enough at the palace." 

That seemed even more alarming to d'Artagnan. There would likely be guards at all points, and presumably it was not an easy place to get in and out of, and he would no doubt be watched all the time. 

"If you have a preference, I'd state it quickly if I was you," Aramis murmured at him. d'Artagnan blinked. 

"What?!"

Fortunately Aramis' words seemed to have somehow reached Athos' ear, as he lifted the tent flap, and he looked very directly at d'Artagnan in a hint that he should open his mouth and say something. He had to make a decision before it was made for him. His mind was very set on the thought that being in the palace would make any further action impossible. Going anywhere near the Red Guard seemed a very bad idea, and could easily happen if the Musketeers were not present. However, the Musketeers had seemed happy for him to act independently if the run down the river was anything to go by. It was probably a better chance than any he would have to get the hell out of the situation. 

And instinct told him if nothing else, the Musketeers were the lesser of the evils. 

"I'd prefer to stay with you," d'Artagnan said.

Athos nodded. He didn't really need to relay the information as d'Artagnan had spoken loud enough for the group gathered by the tent to hear. 

"We can settle him at the garrison. After that we can make further decisions," he heard Treville announced. 

d'Artagnan didn't plan to stay long enough for that to happen. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

It was embarrassing, but d'Artagnan could live with that as he sat on the horse in front of Athos. As he had tried to stand up and walk, he had wobbled so badly it was clearly decided that he couldn't cope. 

Again it was not a fight to bother with. He was going back to Paris, and being in close proximity to Athos was the best he could have. His backside was nestled against Athos' groin, and as far as he could tell, there was no reaction whatsoever. 

He felt the alpha's thighs tense as he kicked the horse and manoeuvred it over the ground, but that was the level of it. His Alpha status never gave in to the fact it was body to body with an omega. 

D'Artagnan didn't fall asleep, he was sure of it, but suddenly he felt a solid shift against his hips and the horse picked up pace. He lifted his head and looked around as the horse passed under what it knew as a familiar archway. 

The horse always danced. Athos made nothing of it as he felt d'Artagnan tense. 

"We're here. You can bathe and rest." 

Athos dismounted, sure that d'Artagnan was collected enough to manage himself. In fact he seemed to expect it. Which was why d'Artagnan got of the horse without complaint. 

"Serge!" Athos yelled, while indicating that d'Artagnan should sit. Warily he did as he was told, looking around and inhaling the scents of the garrison. "The pup needs food. He hasn't eaten today." 

"Right, I have stew on, and some bread." 

Within seconds it was put on the table in front of him. 

"Thank you," d'Artagnan said, as he had never lost the good manners his father had instilled in him. His jaw tensed as he thought about that, then he jumped as he felt a hand brush his hair. Serge didn't react to the aggression his friendly gesture was met with. Instead he went off to feed the rest of the men who had arrived back, and also put a bottle of red wine on the table in front of Athos. He picked it up and took a good mouthful, as he offered the bottle to d'Artagnan he shook his head. 

"No, thank you." 

A jug of water and cup appeared on the table as the young serving boy was sent out by Serge. Athos poured the water out, took a gulp and then put it in front of d'Artagnan. He gave a wry smirk and picked up the cup. 

"I trust you not to do that, since you spent the last few hours reducing my heat." 

"Yes, to which end, you might need to bathe, and we'll find you some clothing. Best you stay within the Garrison for now. The Musketeers won't touch you." 

They won't dare, d'Artagnan thought to himself as he watched the rest of the men move around Athos, who stood close to him, without making an obvious claim. It still meant that he was out of bounds. d'Artagnan was safe for now, as long as he washed and ate and watched the world go by, the moment would come to him. 

He could get away from this. His life was his own, and he intended to keep it that way.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is sort of bringing together a few ideas I had for this type of story, so if some of it runs oddly, it may just take a bit of time to pull the strands together. Let me know if it feels disjointed.

“What was he doing out on his own?!” Treville yelled at the three men. They all looked a little ashamed of themselves, as best the three of them ever could. 

“We trusted that he would stay,” Athos said steadily. “He was clearly planning the best moment for this course of action.” 

“All things considered, it’s hardly that,” Aramis mused only to be glared at from three different directions. 

“Can we get him out?” Porthos said. “The less time he spends in there the better.” 

“Not as easy as it sounds. We didn’t have a clear claim on him in the first place. It was just lucky we got him here; he technically has no owner, and could be claimed by anyone,” Treville sounded rather chagrined about the whole affair. “I should have stopped waiting for you three, and just let some of the others have him.” 

“With respect Captain,” Athos said. “It would be likely that d’Artagnan would have been even more uncooperative if you had done that, and this would have been the result. In fact, it might have given him a better chance of escape. The Red Guards who tried to catch him would have known he’d been claimed. The fact was they knew he hadn’t been.” 

“There’s a good chance the Red Guard were waiting for a moment like this,” Aramis said. “Knowing how cautious we’d be.” 

“They might have done it, even if we had claimed d’Artagnan,” Porthos reasoned. 

“Whatever way it might have happened, it has happened! At least we know where he is, and he won’t be released from the Chatelet just yet. The best I can do it try and appeal to the King to return him to our custody.” 

“And if someone else gets there first?” Athos asked. 

“I will go now, and see what I can do,” Treville said, although he didn’t sound entirely hopeful. “The queen is due to visit tomorrow for the release of the prisoners. I’ll put you on her guard detail, you can at least check on d’Artagnan then without too much fuss. But with a little discretion until I know how the king may react.” 

They nodded, none of them looking too happy at the situation but well aware that there was nothing they could do about it. Treville took himself off to see if he could limit the damage d’Artagnan had managed to do to himself. 

“I feel quite insulted,” Aramis said. Athos snorted. “I thought we were being hospitable,” Aramis added. 

“There was always the likelihood of this happening,” Athos said. “He’s clearly not going to be trusting of us.” 

“But he must know he wouldn’t have been able to cope out… there,” Porthos said. 

“Actually he probably could cope,” Athos said. “But with omegas as rare as they are, people take them any way they can. It’s probably how he survived the attack on his farm. He's an income that would not have been wasted.” 

“He’s almost feral,” Aramis said, rather admiringly. 

“Not that it’s doing him much good at the moment,” Athos said. 

“Might do in the Chatelet ,” Porthos sighed. “They could put him in a cage of alphas.” 

“No, they won’t,” Athos said. “They won’t risk damage to an asset the Crown can sell. But if word gets out that he’s there then we won’t be the only ones trying to get hold of him.” 

“That is not good.”

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

Athos hadn't been sure if he was furious or concerned by d'Artagnan's attempted escape. As he fought with the guards to help to contain the prisoners he watched as the young man eased his way across the side of the courtyard, staying unobtrusive but fighting back when he needed to. 

D'Artagnan moved as swiftly as he dared, following the others as they surged towards the archway out. He elbowed another prisoner hard as they tried to push him back and then he slammed the man's head against the wall. He took the stairs up and ducking under the guard's club pulled his legs out from under him, jumping the prone man and darting down a short corridor. 

He skidded to a halt as he reached the gate, and found the stand off. Easing himself along the wall he paused and waited, halting as the guard rushed to open the gate. Inhaling he realised he could smell the queen's distress. Such a reaction was understandable, a man was holding a gun to her head. D'Artagnan inched along the side of the wall as he realised he could get out of the gate. The man pushed the queen forward, and d'Artagnan looked at the open gate; he could make it, with a bit of a fight he could make it. There was enough of a distraction, guns firing all over the place. He turned his head back to the centre of the courtyard, then to the open gate. Thoughts and scenarios flickered through his head on how things could play out.

Taking another deep breath he lurched away from the wall, stepping forward, hardly thinking about it. 

Treville watched with a detached air as the youth darted forward, pausing to crack one of the men helping Vadim escape on the back of the head to get him out of the way. The boy was already jumping over the limp man before he even landed on the floor. 

D'Artagnan grabbed the queen's arm and pushed himself close to her, so he was flush against her. He used his bodyweight to get her to step sideways, pushing her away from the fighting. An intense pain tore through his shoulder or arm, he wasn't sure which, there was heat and cold, and his grip loosened on her forearm, but he kept his other arm around her, keeping her pressed against his chest. He staggered, feeling his feet tangle within the folds of her dress. They both stumbled, falling to their knees. D'Artagnan kept tight hold as he dropped and sat back on his heels. He was not as close to the side of the courtyard as he would have liked, but it was close enough, he wrapped himself as tightly as he could around the queen's body, putting a hand into her hair to keep her head down. He heard her whimper and felt her body shuddering against his but he didn't move, his back was to the prisoners escaping out of the open gate, and that kept the Queen safely tilted in the direction of the Musketeers and prison guards, who were unlikely to fire upon them. 

Slowly he felt aware of the sounds around him fading, feet thundered past him, of people giving chase to the fleeing criminals. He loosened his grip and he heard her whimper again. 

"It's all right, you're safe, it's all right." d'Artagnan shifted her in his arms as best he could, so she was sideways on to him, her shoulder pressed tightly to his collarbone. "Look at me." 

He was amazed that she did, staring up at him with amazement. Instinct drove him as he stroked her hair and ran his hand down to her neck, running his fingertips over her skin. Her body relaxed ever so slightly. There were still shouts and stamps around them that made her flinch but she settled down in his arms. 

"It's fine, you're safe." 

"You're hurt!" she whispered urgently as she stared at the blood soaking the sleeve of his shirt. D'Artagnan glanced down, it wasn't hurting too much, which might not be a good thing. 

"I'm fine, it's just a scratch."

The sounds were fading around them, and they slowly shifted, d'Artagnan looked around, glancing behind him to see the men making a getaway on horseback. Several Musketeers chased after them, still firing but the danger appeared to have passed and d'Artagnan noticed several people now baring down on them. Very slowly he moved, helping the Queen to her feet, she staggered slightly, pressing against him. Treville noticed the same thing, as the head gaoler moved in, clearly intending to yank d'Artagnan away from the frightened Queen. 

She could smell the aggression in the air, surrounded by alphas, the only comforting thing she had was the other omega wrapped carefully around her. d'Artagnan seemed to sense the same thing, staying still and pressing against her in the same instinctive reaction. It all passed through Treville's mind in a second and he shouldered the gaoler out of the way to stand next to the Queen, safely flanking her but having no intention of moving her too quickly. She turned to look at him, bumping against d'Artagnan again. Athos clearly had the same thoughts as he moved to flank d'Artagnan, although he frowned as he looked at the blood soaking the young man's shirt. 

"Aramis." 

"Are you all right Your Majesty?" Treville asked her. 

She looked at him with wide frightened eyes, but she slowly nodded, turning back to look as Aramis moved closer to try and examine the wound. As d'Artagnan also appeared to be bleeding on his shoulder Aramis tried to ease his shirt down slightly. Athos and Aramis gracefully swapped places so Aramis could try and look at the wound and Athos could flank them both to keep any unwanted intruders away from the scene. The Queen stayed close to d’Artagnan’s side but let Treville take her hand. She watched Aramis anxiously as he tried to look over d’Artagnan’s arm. He gave a slight hiss of pain as Aramis located the wound. 

“Is he all right?” 

“Just a flesh wound, it will need cleaning, but probably not stitching. My kit is at the garrison.” 

“We have someone here who can clean him up,” the gaoler announced, lingering behind the crowd of Musketeers surrounding the two omegas. Athos noted that d’Artagnan looked rather alarmed by that. Fortunately rather than him having to somehow take the situation in hand, the Queen put it firmly in his palm. She turned to Treville. 

“Oh, you must look after him. You will, won’t you?” 

Treville nodded in Athos’ direction. “Athos and Aramis can take him to the garrison, we can keep d’Artagnan there. I must get you back to the palace.” 

That was the moment Treville very carefully eased the Queen away from d’Artagnan. Athos took that opportunity to get to d’Artagnan’s side, again preventing the gaoler from getting anywhere near them. Athos paused as he felt a light hand on his arm. He turned his head to look at the Queen. 

“Look after him.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

D’Artagnan was too stunned to react as both Athos and Aramis inclined their heads as Treville started to lead the Queen away, several Musketeers surrounding them; Porthos included. She turned back, just briefly, to smile at him, which d’Artagnan returned, still feeling stunned by the turn of events. Porthos eyed his two comrades, who both nodded at him curtly in a hint they would see him later. 

“We should get someone to take those shackles off,” Aramis mused. Glancing around Athos shook his head. 

“We can do that at the garrison, let’s get him out of here first.” 

Still too stunned to really work out what had just happened, d’Artagnan was swept away by a firm grip on his arm. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Once again d’Artagnan found himself sitting on a horse, in front of Athos. The Musketeer steered the horse carefully, mindful of d’Artagnan’s sore arm, although as he accidentally brushed the omega’s ribcage on the other side, he heard him give another hiss of pain. 

“What’s the matter?” 

D’Artagnan was tempted to say nothing, but it seemed pointless. 

“My ribs are bruised.” 

“Who did that?” 

“The gaoler wasn’t too happy when I questioned the ingredients of his stew.” 

“Is there anything else?” Athos asked. 

“His hygiene methods were also rather questionable.” 

Athos gave a rather exasperated sigh. “I meant have you any further injuries.” 

D’Artagnan clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to say anything on the subject but on the other hand, he didn’t doubt that if Athos had any further suspicions, he’d merely hold him down and examine him until he felt entirely satisfied on the subject of d’Artagnan’s physical health. 

“I twisted my ankle, I think, and my knee feels a bit bruised.” 

“He hit you there as well?” the disapproving tone of Athos’ voice cause d’Artagnan to nod. 

“I hurt my ankle, when…”

“When you were trying to get out.”

Again the tone was disapproving. D’Artagnan merely nodded. Athos sighed. 

“Better that than a flesh wound I suppose.” 

D’Artagnan glanced at his bleeding shoulder. Aramis had bound it up as best he could but blood had continued to seep onto his shirt. 

“I’ve got a flesh wound.” 

“Not in your leg,” Athos said. 

It took d’Artagnan a little while to process that information. When he did he shifted in the saddle, trying to stare at Athos over his shoulder, which hurt his sore ribs, so he stopped it. 

“You were going to shoot me!” 

Aramis, who was riding slightly ahead of them, slowed his horse, turning his head to listen. 

“If I needed to stop you getting out of the gate,” Athos informed d’Artagnan casually. The omega’s eyes widened at the careless tone, catching Aramis’ gaze at the same time. The other Musketeer also seemed shocked by Athos’ calm admission. 

D’Artagnan had no idea what he could possibly say to that, so he subsided into silence. 

For the rest of the journey they didn’t speak. d’Artagnan watched the activity in the streets, and stared around. He noticed a few people looking at him, several alphas blatantly stared at him, until their eyes drifted to Athos, and then the gaze swiftly averted. He kept his hands down, in the hope of hiding the fact he was still wearing the shackles, and as he started to feel slightly woozy he didn’t object as he felt one of Athos’ arms wrap around him, careful of his bruised ribs and a hand pressed on his navel to encourage him to rest back against the body behind him for support. Too tired to really argue d’Artagnan obeyed the unspoken command, slumping slightly, his shoulder continued to throb, and he closed his eyes. 

He didn’t think he went to sleep, again, he could still feel the movement of the horse underneath him and Athos’ solid form behind him, but it didn’t seem long until Athos pulled the horse to a halt and slowly opening his eyes d’Artagnan realised they had again reached the Garrison. Athos ensured d’Artagnan could sit steadily before he dismounted and he paused by the side of the horse, while d’Artagnan lifted his leg over. 

“Ah, Monsieur Athos, I was looking for Captain Treville.” 

D'Artagnan heard Athos huff in irritation as he turned to the man baring down on them. 

"Ah Monsieur Bonacieux, unfortunately he has been detained, he has business at the palace. You may need to come back another time." 

"I wished to show him the cloth for the new capes," Bonacieux said as if it was the most important thing in the word. He clicked his fingers at a young woman, who seemed to be irritated by the need to jump to attention. She was holding a heavy looking roll of cloth. Athos hardly glanced at her, concentrating on helping d'Artagnan steady himself as he dismounted. It drew the attention towards him and he watched the man, Bonacieux, look him up and down with a sneer. D'Artagnan couldn't help shifting uncomfortably, trying to hide the shackles still on his wrists and aware of the state he was in.

Athos clearly sensed something because he stepped closer to d'Artagnan almost curling around him in a protective gesture, and he practically growled at the unfortunate man. 

"As I said, you may have to come back another day." 

The aggression in the alpha's tone caused the man to back up. Through the haze of the other scents around him, d'Artagnan picked out that the man was a beta, strong enough but he couldn't compete with the Alpha that Athos was. Athos turned him away from the pair, to move him across the yard, but he turned and tipped his hat at the woman. 

"Madame Bonacieux," Athos said with elegant politeness. She gave a brief curtsey in response. 

"Monsieur Athos."

"Excuse me," Athos said pushing d'Artagnan in the direction of a low building, Aramis on his heels, although he also paused to tilt his hat in the woman's direction. Athos hauled d'Artagnan over to an open area to the right where a man was shoeing a horse. He looked up curiously, raising his eyebrows as he looked at d'Artagnan. 

"Get these shackles off," Athos ordered. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The order had been duly followed and then d'Artagnan dragged out of the forge across the courtyard, now thankfully empty, and into the barracks and the room he had previously spent several days in. 

"Undress."

D'Artagnan hesitated a moment, in which space of time Athos eyed him carefully. Not in anger. D'Artagnan seemed to make people angry a lot of the time, he knew the signs. There was curiosity in Athos' gaze, and clear interest, but nothing of what d'Artagnan expected, which confused him slightly and he felt more embarrassed refusing to strip than he did getting on with it. It made him look like a childish idiot. Athos wanted him naked to check his injuries. D'Artagnan had, over the last few years, lived for not doing what people wanted, and expected, of him. Such behaviour seemed the only way to fight back over the situation and how he had been treated. 

Athos stepped forward as d'Artagnan winced, trying to lift his injured arm. It caused d'Artagnan to flinch again. The alpha paused, eyeing him carefully as he shifted the material of d'Artagnan's shirt to lift it, easing it over his head and then down his arms, as carefully as he could. He had to have seen the frightened flinch but he neither commented nor reacted to it. D'Artagnan made a better effort removing his trousers, but yanked them back up again as the door opened. Aramis looked surprised as the startled movement and shared a look with Athos. 

"He's unsurprisingly jumpy," Athos commented, but he turned his expectant gaze back to d'Artagnan, who clung to the laces of his trousers for a moment before sighing again, releasing the ties and letting his trousers drop. 

"Might be easier to get him bathed first before trying to treat him," Aramis said, which caused d'Artagnan to wince again. Although, as he looked down, and examined himself, he couldn't really argue with them. 

"Get the kitchens to heat some water," Athos said. Aramis nodded and disappeared again. "Sit down before you fall down." 

D'Artagnan very carefully obeyed the order. The adrenaline of the situation was wearing off, and his aches and pains were starting to make themselves known. He put his head down, trying not to think about the circumstances that had brought him to this point. Mostly his own bad decisions. 

Athos chose not to comment. D'Artagnan had clearly been through enough, and every inch of his demeanour hinted that he wanted to be left alone. He looked up again as Athos crossed the room to the door. 

"Stay in here," he ordered d'Artagnan. "Aramis should be back in a moment. I'll go and get you something to eat." 

"Thank you." 

Athos left him, at least for a few minutes, alone. It was a state he thought he longed for. Now he had been given it, a respite of a few minutes, he probed his feelings about it. He was fed up. Fed up of being told what to do, of being an omega, and of quite frankly his entire life.

"Right!" Aramis said reappearing in the room with his medical kit, frowning as he realised Athos was absent. "The bath will be ready shortly." 

"Athos went for food," d'Artagnan explained as Aramis looked out of the door. 

"And wine no doubt," Aramis muttered to himself. "Good, I can douse your wounds, and it will help with the pain. What did you think you were doing?" 

"Helping the Queen; she helped me before now." 

"Nice to know you have a set of decent manners in there somewhere," Aramis said to him as he looked at the bullet graze. He also looked over the healing wound that he had stitched three weeks earlier. "I meant wandering off on your own. You must have known the Red Guard would be on you the moment they spotted you." 

"I couldn't help running into them." 

Aramis huffed, sniggering to himself. d'Artagnan glared up at him. 

"And you didn't think they haven't had someone watching the Garrison. We trusted you to stay put, they clearly estimated you better than we did." 

d'Artagnan looked amusingly furious. Aramis felt that they could afford to be a little magnanimous now that the omega was safely contained again. Both of them looked up as Athos returned again. 

"The water is almost heated, and Serge is gathering enough food to feed an omega army," Athos said. Aramis smirked. 

"We appear to have one of those." 

"And one," Athos drawled. "Is entirely enough."


	4. Chapter Four

D'Artagnan was clearly nervous. He had been from the moment Athos had walked into the room in the garrison and handed him the set of new clothes. Treville close behind him. 

For the previous few days d'Artagnan had at least stayed put, although he had noticed the rotation of Musketeers sitting at the entrance to the Garrison. Whichever guard it was ignored most of the comings and goings, but always seemed to lift his head when d'Artagnan was in the yard. He could put that down to being an omega, and all of them appeared to view him in that way. But he was wise enough to realise the guard was there to keep him from getting out. Putting up a fight was probably not worth it. He knew what battles were hopeless. His only other option was to find a way to clamber up over the roof. And d'Artagnan would not have been surprised to find Athos waiting for him up there. 

So he had stayed, and watched warily. As warily as Athos, Aramis and Porthos watched him. d'Artagnan couldn't entirely understand why the claim hadn't simply been made, done and ended. He would know what he was dealing with then. That would be easy. d'Artagnan could fight that. The Musketeers were oddly elusive. 

However, they also seemed to take responsibility for him. So again he had seen the arrogant cloth merchant, as he had been brought to the room to measure him for something decent to wear, as he was making do with hand-me-downs from the rest of the Garrison, who had given him a pile of clothing without complaint.

Clearly the Merchant had remembered d'Artagnan from his previous encounter, and inhaling heavily as he stood close to him identified him as unclaimed, and the random clothes mean he was covered in all sorts of scents. The man regarded him disdainfully for a moment, making the worst conclusion of the facts. Then clearly deferred to the strongest Alpha in the room. 

Athos. 

"I can of course provide anything. Measure him," he ordered his wife. 

She glowered a little but moved to do as she was told, pausing momentarily as d'Artagnan tensed up. But Aramis had not been wrong, d'Artagnan at least had manners, and behaved himself as she moved around him. 

"Can you lift your arm for me?" 

"Certainly Madame," d'Artagnan said. He spoke loudly, interrupting her husband's conversation with Athos. Athos gave him something close to a warning glare, that was tempered by a slight smirk. The beta merely glared then went back to ignoring him. He had behaved impeccably as Constance, he bothered to learn her name, just to annoy her husband, kept up quite a congenial conversation with him as she measured him. To the point that Aramis eased around the merchant to listen to them rather than be bored to death by the debate of what sort of clothes d'Artagnan might need. 

"You need to get washed and dressed, now." Athos ordered as he had handed d'Artagnan the new garments. 

"Why?" d'Artagnan asked, rather that just doing as he was told. 

"Probably better you wear something suitable. You've been summoned to the palace."

D'Artagnan's eyes had widened in shock, and he looked at the clothes again.

"Why?" 

"The Queen wishes to see you. Hurry up and get changed." 

Thankfully d'Artagnan did, stripping down swiftly, although he took a conscious step away from Athos, ensuring that the bed was between them. Treville clearly satisfied with his compliance, went away to leave d'Artagnan alone with Athos to get washed and dressed. Athos sat on one of the beds, and waited. d'Artagnan got on with it. 

Once he was changed he moved back towards Athos, smoothing the jacket down, feeling the supple leather with mild awe. 

"Why does she want to see me?" 

Athos raised his head, and swung his legs off the bed. "I presume to thank you, for what you did."

"But she did that."

"And now she wants to do it again. She's the Queen of France, d'Artagnan, if she wants to see you then she gets to see you," Athos said. "Plus, you are the only omega she's had any contact with recently." 

"And the King also wants to see him," Treville announced returning to the room with a letter and a look of irritation on his face. 

d'Artagnan looked from Treville to Athos as the Musketeer gave his Captain a hard look. Treville looked resigned.

"What?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"Let's just get to the palace shall we?" Treville ordered in a way that did not inspire d'Artagnan with confidence. 

"What have I done?"

"Nothing," Treville said. "The Cardinal objected to us removing you from the Chatelet, I told him it was a direct order from the Queen, now the King wants to see you before he makes a decision."

"Why does that entail you two giving each other ominous looks?" 

"The King has a..." Treville paused, searching for an appropriate word.

"Fetish," Athos helped, unhelpfully.

"For?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"Male omegas," Athos said bluntly. "Omegas are rare, males rarer than that." 

"As long as you don't do anything too interesting you'll be fine" Treville announced. Again the ominous look was exchanged and d'Artagnan felt his stomach flop over. 

Despite that, within the hour he was trailing Athos into the imposing looking building, dragging his heels a little, knowing that the King was one alpha he could not even think about refusing. Athos, realising d'Artagnan was dropping back, slowed down. 

"When you see the King, flirt, but don't overdo it and don't panic, he will be familiar with his touches." 

d'Artagnan's eyes widened.

"With any luck the Queen will be in the same room, which will moderate his behaviour somewhat."

"And if not." 

"If the King wants to see you, he is likely to ask for your opinion. Hesitation may cost you. Treville said he needs to check his records about something which may help you." 

"Like what?" d'Artagnan hissed. 

"I don't know, he didn't say any more on the subject."

Neither did Athos. Instead they were taken into a opulent looking room. d'Artagnan felt terrified of moving in case he knocked something, or made a mess. He stared at everything with slight awe. He followed Athos' lead, bowing as the Queen entered. 

"Your Majesty," Athos said. 

"Athos," she said with a clear hint that meant Athos dropped an hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder and backed off to give him and the Queen some privacy. 

"Are you well?" d'Artagnan asked. The last time he had seen her, she had been fine at the end of the incident but the situation had been somewhat fraught. Now she looked far more composed. 

"Thanks to you," she said. She reached up to gently touch his arm, close to the wound. 

"It's fine," d'Artagnan said. "Aramis patched me up again." 

"Are they treating you well, the Musketeers?" she asked. 

d'Artagnan nodded. "Yes. They're fine," he said, glancing at Athos, who was leaning on the nearby door frame watching the coming and goings beyond the door and paying no heed to the conversation. 

"No one has tried to..." 

"They are being very careful," d'Artagnan said. "I would have thought they might have done so. After the incident with the Red Guard." 

Anne turned to link her arm with his and walked him towards a door to the garden. Athos turned, and started to follow at a discreet distance. The Queen's ladies in waiting also followed, staying behind Athos. She took d'Artagnan down the steps and along a pathway. 

"They won't make you do anything you don't want," she assured him. d'Artagnan looked around at the well maintained garden. 

"That would be a first." 

"They will not." 

"And others might. They always have," he said. Her hand tightened on his arm in a comforting gesture. 

"Do you want to stay with them?" she asked. "They have omegas in the ranks. Not many but..." 

"One more would be welcome." 

"Very," she said. "And you would have the pick of them." 

"I'm not sure I'd want that. I think I've had my fill of Alphas." 

"They are a little hard to avoid," she said a little wryly as several of the Red Guard appeared. d'Artagnan tensed. The Queen stared at them steadily. Eventually they bowed politely. d'Artagnan huffed angrily. 

"We're to bring the omega to the throne room, Your Majesty."

"I'm sure I can escort him there," 

"We have our orders," the guard announced. 

The Queen kept a determined grip on d'Artagnan's arm, and turned him to go back the way they had come. 

"This way your Majesty." 

She turned to glower at the man in question. "Do you not think that I know how to make my way to the throne room?" 

Athos shifted so he was between the two omegas and the Red Guard. He smiled steadily, and then waved his hand. The Red Guard fumed but did Athos did nothing to prevent them flanking the group and letting them lead the way to where the King waited. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

The following day d'Artagnan wandered into the grounds again, discreetly followed by a palace guard, wondering what his next move could possibly be. With the decision still unmade he had simply ended up staying at the palace. Most notably in the King's bed. As the Queen had passed him this morning, she had ignored him, which caused d'Artagnan's heart to sink even more so than when the King insisted he stay at the palace, installed close to the royal apartment. It led to an obvious conclusion and clearly hurt the Queen, who had been trying to defend him. 

Now he didn't know what the hell to do. There were no Musketeers at the Palace. They were with the King and Queen at the Easter Mass. Over the last few days he had gleaned information from the Musketeers that they were expecting an attack. The King had insisted the walk through Paris would go ahead to flush out the attackers. D'Artagnan had been privy to that part of the conversation. 

He slowly turned his head at the sight of someone striding purposefully towards the palace. His eyes narrowed as recognition stirred in the back of his mind and he started to head towards the man. He began to run as he saw what the man carried in his hands. The first explosion caused people to start running in confusion. Away from the dust and noise. d'Artagnan paused, assessing the scene. With no one in sight who could really help him. 

"Make everyone look the other way," d'Artagnan muttered to himself and he headed off in pursuit. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

They found d’Artagnan on the edge of the river, crouching by Vadim’s body. Oddly, d’Artagnan was holding the man’s hand. But he laid it on his chest as he looked up at saw the three of them. For a moment they just looked at each other until Aramis’s gaze went up to the cut on d’Artagnan’s head, just on his hairline. He stepped forward and gave it a brief examination ending with a gentle stroke of d’Artagnan’s hair, which caused him to glower in irritation and the other two alphas with jealousy. 

“Not got enough injuries already?” Aramis joked. 

“A rock hit me when the main blast occurred. To clear the escape route I think," d'Artagnan said. “He was the one you were asking me about, during the prison break.” 

Athos nodded. “We though his targets were the King and Queen.” 

“So did the rest of his gang,” Porthos pointed out. 

“It was one hell of a trick,” d’Artagnan said. “Make you look one way, and then go in the other.” 

“He’s better at it than you,” Aramis pointed out. "It almost worked." 

D’Artagnan ignored him and picked up the jewels that Vadim had managed to swipe from the palace. He held the bag up to Athos. 

“Not quite,” d’Artagnan said. 

“You return them,” Athos said. “You did most of the work it seems.” 

“I saw him walking into the palace, and he started setting off explosions. Everyone else ran away.” 

“And you naturally ran towards it,” Athos said with a wry grin and a shake of his head. D’Artagnan was torn between feeling pleased and insulted. He slowly got to his feet, making sure he didn’t wobble, having done that quite enough around the three alphas already he didn’t want to give him any more reason to get protective of him. Aramis patted his shoulder. 

“Come on then, best we get back." 

The palace was in chaos. The King and Queen in the centre of the room surrounded by a mass of confused courtiers, soldiers, Red Guard and Musketeers. 

“This man thought he could steal from me! This was what this was about!” Louis yelled. 

“He didn’t, Your Majesty,” Athos said as they entered the room. D’Artagnan again felt like the scruffiest person there. Although he had just been in an explosion and then a fight on a muddy riverbank, so he supposed there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

“You caught him?” the King demanded. 

“D’artagnan did,” Athos said. “When he saw Vadim entering the palace he gave chase. We killed the rest of Vadim's men. They came to take revenge.” 

“And this Vadim?” Louis snapped. 

“Dead also,” Athos said. 

“I killed him,” d’Artagnan added. “I got these.” He held up the bag of stolen jewels. Letting the arrogant looking man, who had looked less than impressed at setting up a room for d'Artagnan yesterday, take the bag. 

"It seems the Musketeers saved the day," the Queen said. 

"I think d'Artagnan should take most of the credit," Athos announced. "He chased and caught the thief." 

"You really are proving your worth, little omega," Louis said to him.

"It would be worthwhile training him," Athos said. 

"He does not necessarily have to join the Musketeers," the Cardinal said, clearly now increasingly keen to get hold of d'Artagnan. 

"True," the King mused. "Maybe there are other considerations." 

d'Artagnan looked around. Athos gave him a frustrated look. However, they were distracted as a Musketeer discreetly made his way in to the room to collar Treville. He handed him some papers, whispering urgently at the Captain. Treville glanced over the papers, nodded at the man and then stepped forward. 

"However, the Musketeers, do have a prior claim." 

Athos growled; d'Artagnan tensed. The Musketeers all subtly started to move closer to d'Artagnan. The Red Guard shifted in reaction. Treville gave the Musketeers a look to steady them and then turned to the king. 

"It took me a few days to find the relevant information. I knew the d'Artagnan name was familiar. I still do have family ties in Gascony, Alexandre d'Artagnan took some advice from my cousin. The initial letter was four years ago, Monsieur d'Artagnan wrote to me enquiring about enlisting his son to the Musketeers. I did send a favourable response, at the time we had some alpha Musketeers that would have suited. Still would suit, if others do not," Treville said, not looking at the three men glowering at him, and the one that frowned in confusion. 

Stepping forward Treville handed the letter to Louis, who started to read it. 

"I was in negotiations; however, it was a few months after that the farm was attacked and burnt. We were unable to establish what had happened, until now," Treville said. "But that does mean that d'Artagnan's alpha, his father, had a mind to enlist him with us." 

Treville knew what point Louis was reading in the letter as he grinned and started to giggle. He looked up at a frowning d'Artagnan. 

"Somewhat boisterous," he quoted, still sniggering. d'Artagnan flushed, getting an idea of when the letter had been written. After a somewhat memorable incident with a few alpha farmhands. His father had always taught him to defend himself, from a young age, and not just physically. But it was never going to be easy for him. His father had known that as well. Louis continued to giggle as he read the letter. 

"Your father was rather candid with me," Treville said to d'Artagnan, which caused him to flush further. Louis, still giggling, offered the letter to d'Artagnan who took hold of it quickly to scan his father's words. Mortification fought a battle with devastation, which was tempered by love, as he looked at his father's writing and what he had said about him. Proud but very aware of most of d'Artagnan's faults. 

"This is your father's handwriting?" 

"It is," d'Artagnan said, not lifting his eyes from the page. His father hadn't gone so far as to be specific with him about what he was planning, but he wouldn't have done anything without d'Artagnan's agreement. He felt a press of tears behind his eyes as he looked at some of what his father said about him. It made him wonder if some of it was true anymore. 

"You could certainly train with us as a cadet, rather than make any decision now," Treville said, trying to snap d'Artagnan out of his daze. 

"He's good, but raw," Athos added. 

"D'Artagnan!"

It was Louis' voice that brought him out of his contemplation. He folded the letter and tucked it away before anyone could reclaim it. Treville let it go, the King had seen it, which was proof enough. And some of the information clearly covered a large number of d'Artagnan's personality points. It was authentic. 

"What do you want to do?" the King asked. 

Go home, d'Artagnan thought. Find that none of the last few years ever happened and see my father working the farm as he always did, while I helped him, and fended off the worst of the farmhand's attentions, and stand my own ground. Everything ran through his brain and his mouth made it very succinct. 

"I want to find and kill the man who murdered my father."


	5. Chapter Five

D’Artagnan felt slightly nervous as he rode into Garrison. One of the Musketeer horses had been left in the royal stable for him. No one had bothered to saddle it. Not that he cared. He merely got the animal ready himself, which was preferable, he knew what he was doing and he trusted his own actions. He had only himself he could trust. 

The three of them were waiting for him. They were sparring amongst themselves. Aramis and Porthos against Athos. d'Artagnan dismounted his horse and took it to the stable himself, settling the animal gently before heading out, and meeting Athos at the door. Porthos was busy pounding a few other Musketeers. 

"They left that horse?" 

"Buttercup, she's fine," d'Artagnan said. Athos moved closer, then backed up again as Buttercup tried to kick him. Her ears flattened on her head and she gave a warning snort. d'Artagnan reached out and rubbed her hindquarters, gently murmuring at her, which was returned with her ears lifting and giving a gentle rumble. 

"I'm amazed they got it to the stables for you to find. Must have drugged her." 

"She's a bit prickly but no worse than any others I've met." 

"You have a way with horses," Aramis said. 

"I used to be a farmer, I know what I'm doing." 

"Let's see about that, shall we?" Athos said. Inclining his head he nodded at the weapons on the nearby table. d'Artagnan picked them up, sliding the sword out of the scabbard. It was well made, old, but then the sword that had been his father's had seen wear. 

"Where did these come from?" 

"Me, lad. They're all yours," Serge said. 

"But I can't..." 

"Shall we?" Athos asked giving him a none to gentle bump on his shoulder and a furious glance that told d'Artagnan that refusing such gifts would be an utter affront to him, if no one else. d'Artagnan looked down at the sword, which had been perfectly polished and cared for, the scabbard recently cleaned, some of the stitching loose, but d'Artagnan could rectify that. It had been newly sharpened, as had the dagger. 

"Thank you," d'Artagnan said moving to strap the weapons on, setting the dagger sheath on the small of his back and settling the sword on his hip. Serge watched for a moment and then happy with the result went on his way. d'Artagnan stepped towards Athos, aware that a large amount of the weapons training had started to slow down. 

"Are you going to draw that?" Athos asked. 

"When I'm ready," d'Artagnan said. Athos had his sword drawn, d'Artagnan shrugged and yanked the material that was loosely draped around Aramis's neck clear, causing the Alpha to jump. He started to wrap it around his hand. "When you're ready," he added to Athos. 

Athos watched warily, working out how to judge the situation when d'Arganan might move forward. He stayed in the centre of the yard, facing him, looking unperturbed by the three alphas around him. In fact Athos, the closest to him, noticed the darkening of his eyes. 

This was a situation d'Artagnan knew well enough. There were often times he could never prevent the result, but he never gave it easily. There were times the fight was pointless. And recently he had done that with the king. And how could he refuse him. He could hardly start fighting the King of France. 

For the Musketeers, however, d'Artagnan didn't need to have any scruples. But considering the subtle, and less subtle, audience he had, he would not getaway with serious damage. Against three he could get a few good strikes in, on the flip side, however good they were, they would not want to hurt him too much. 

How much was what d'Artagnan needed know. 

"Your little omega doesn't look keen," another Musketeer announced waving his sword at d'Artagnan, swatting him on the backside. 

In a flash d'Artagnan whirled round, used the hand wrapped in Aramis' scarf to grab the blade. He yanked the Musketeer towards him, who as d'Artagnan guessed, would not let go of his sword and using his other hand, broke the man's nose before pushing him away. There was laughter, and a few murmurs as the man put a hand to his nose, giving a muffled grunt as he got to his feet. d'Artagnan sensed the increase in aggression as he stepped back, giving himself space. Athos eased forward, scanning the lingering Musketeers, who all took a careful step back. 

Porthos eased sideways, standing in front of a group who had gathered up the injured man. They took the hint and moved away. d'Artagnan eyed the scene carefully, but the alphas were making a statement to their comrades. It probably hadn't warranted the broken nose, but the three of them made it clear that d'Artagnan was not to be played about with. 

"I presume if nothing else your father taught you to use a sword?" Athos asked. 

"Yes," d'Artagnan said. 

"Then I suggest we start there," Athos said. 

With a sigh d'Artagnan drew the sword, shifted it slightly in his hand. The balance was good, but it was a Musketeer blade, so d'Artagnan presumed it to be well made. He waited warily for Athos to move forward. Then d'Artagnan decided there was no point putting it off any more. He moved forward to strike, moving carefully, watching every move Athos made. 

Athos started out just as carefully, until d'Artagnan started to increase his attack, clearly aiming to do him some damage. Aramis and Porthos sat back on the edge of the nearby table and watched. 

"He's holding his own," Aramis said. 

"Athos is holding back. He doesn't want to hurt the little fool," Porthos commented, although he started to revise his opinion as Athos delivered a punch to d'Artagnan's head, sending him reeling backwards, but as d'Artagnan went down he was ready for Athos' advance. He moved lithely, and Aramis and Porthos both shifted in interest. Then Aramis stepped forward, drawing his own sword and stepping in as d'Artagnan put in a vicious thrust which almost sliced into Athos' leg. Giving a nod Athos stepped back and let Aramis move forward. 

Aramis stepped sideways, parrying a couple of strikes before moving in, taking over from Athos. Until Athos was forced to interfere again defecting d'Artagnan's sword away from Aramis. 

"That's enough for now," he said. He turned and walked away. 

Every Musketeer jumped as the dagger embedded itself in the post by Athos' head. He turned and looked at an enraged d'Artagnan. A few of the watching crowd, which had lessened slightly, used the word 'feral' in their conversations. 

"Have it your way," Athos said, turning and stepping back into the fray. A glance at Aramis brought him back into the fight. Porthos, with a shrug, decided he didn't want to be left out and drew his own sword. 

It wasn't long before d'Artagnan was overpowered, fighting three against one. But he kept it going as long as possible, until the three of them, in a co-ordinated attack, backed him up to the steps. He made a futile effort to knock the swords away before he fell, resigned to the fact that this was not likely to end well for him. He looked at the three faces, beyond the points of the swords. None of them moved. 

"When I tell you enough, it's enough," Athos said. d'Artagnan blinked. 

"Makes a change," he said. 

"I think perhaps you might want to take your little feral elsewhere for a little while," a voice advised. 

The three of them turned, to look at the remaining crowd, who were watching darkly, most especially the comrades of the man with the broken nose. In front of them stood Pierre, one of the omega Musketeers, safely surrounded by four of his six alphas but clearly aware that d'Artagnan was not on his way to making friends. And the crowd waited to see what the end result of d'Artagnan's behaviour would be. Pierre's rough guess was that the three men wouldn't do anything in public. But it looked better if someone else removed them. 

Athos stepped back, sheathing his sword. The other two following suit. d'Artganan slowly lifted himself up from his prone position vary warily. He gathered up his sword, and sheathed it. 

"Come on then," Athos said. d'Artagnan looked around, still slightly confused. Porthos grabbed his arm and turned him round so he could follow Athos. A none to gentle shove got him moving. He tailed along, waiting to see what would happen next. 

Quite confusingly, it was food and wine. 

"Thank you," d'Artagnan said to the serving maid as she deposited the stew in front of him. Athos filled his wine glass up. 

"Don't look so despondent, you did well."

"Although he missed your nose," Aramis said. "Which I presume what he was planning to aim at." 

"I know." 

d'Artagnan said nothing, feeling miserably confused by the whole thing. He didn't seem to have a conclusion to the fight, which bothered him, because he couldn't work out what they really wanted of him. He couldn't believe it was as simple as they seemed to be making it. 

Athos, who had been slightly slouched, straightened up as another Musketeer entered the inn. Heading over to them he glanced around. 

"Treville wants you to report to the Garrison now. All of you." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"D'Artagnan can see to the horses, as he'll have to deal with Buttercup anyway." 

"Do we have to tether him with them," Porthos snapped. 

"Find some firewood," Athos told him. "We'll stay here tonight rather than pushing to Paris, the horses have been rushed enough." 

"At least Bonnaire has got his just desserts," Aramis offered into the gloom of the mood. d'Artagnan took the saddles off the horses and started to tether them up. 

"Are you sure we don't need to tether you as well?" Porthos snapped as he came back with a pile of firewood. d'Artagnan paused, looking up nervously, wondering if Porthos might try what he had tried to do earlier. d'Artagnan had never seen anyone so angry, when he had appeared with Athos as they returned to Paris. 

His plan had been to get away. The opportunity presenting itself was too good to miss, but then, other things had happened. 

"No," d'Artagnan told him. 

"Leave the lad alone, see if you can bring down any game, or we are just on rations." 

"There were some blackberries in the bush down the road," d'Artagnan offered. 

"I'll get them, wouldn't want you getting lost." Porthos growled. d'Artagnan nodded, getting the feeling that Athos' orders, a second time, would not keep Porthos from giving him a beating. The fury was still sparking off the huge man as he stalked away. Aramis gave d'Artagnan a half-amused, half-resigned look before pulling his pistol and trailing off after his comrade. 

d'Artagnan gave a heavy sigh and started to brush down the horses. As he worked on Athos' horse Buttercup nuzzled his back, giving a light gentle sigh as reassurance, before she went back to her food. d'Artagnan lifted the stallion's hoof and checked the shoe and underside, pulling a stone out. 

"Have you said anything to them?" Athos asked. 

d'Artagnan put the hoof down and moved to the back, he shook his head before he picked the hind foot up. 

"No, of course not." 

"Thank you." 

He put the hoof down again, leaning against the horse's hindquarters and looked at Athos as he started to build up the fire. 

"Who was she?" 

"A ghost." 

"You were nearly burnt to death by a ghost?" 

"Of a fashion. Maybe you should have carried on riding." 

There was a question in Athos' words, and tone, as to why d'Artagnan hadn't. Athos made it possible for d'Artagnan to ignore the question in the subtext, if he so wished. However, it was too raw, and Porthos too angry at him, for d'Artagnan to leave it alone. 

"I never had the luxury of being able to save my father from the farm house when it burnt."

Athos looked up at him. 

"You watched it happen?" 

"It was fun to watch me try and get free to save my father," he said flatly. "The best thing might have been to stay quiet, like a good little omega. They left him in there unconscious, to burn to death." 

And d'Artagnan couldn't let that happen to someone else. Hence why he had saved Athos, and gone back to Paris with him, since he was hardly in any fit state to be alone. Which was perhaps why Athos had ordered Porthos down. 

He had been furious when he had laid eyes on d'Artagnan. He had been damn glad that they had met up within a room in the Garrison, since he didn't think at the time Porthos had any scruples about chastising him publicly. d'Artagnan had concluded previously that Porthos had to be strong but it had taken the man no time at all to grapple him down onto his knees, clamping one hand on the back of d'Artagnan's neck and freeing his belt with the other. Aramis hadn't moved. Neither had Athos. d'Artagnan had made an attempt to free himself from the ranting Alpha, who merely shook him like a child and slammed him chest first against the end of the nearby cot bed. 

"Don't you move," warned Porthos, who dropped his sword on the bed and wrapped the end of the belt around his hand. He looked about ready to yank d'Artagnan's tunic off when Athos's low, authoritative voice cut across Porthos' anger. 

"Enough, leave him." 

Porthos snarled, clearly not capable of putting an objection into words. Athos stepped closer, going nose to nose with him. 

"I said leave him." 

To d'Artagnan's utter amazement Porthos glared at Athos for a moment, before turning on his heel, snatching his sword and stalking out of the room. Aramis blinked, and sighed. Athos took his arm and pulled d'Artagnan back onto his feet. 

"He's probably still upset about Bonnaire," Aramis told them. 

"I think we can deal with that," Athos said. 

Still Porthos had remained annoyed with d'Artagnan. Which was probably why Athos had called a halt and suggested they camp rather than push back to Paris. 

They both ended the conversation as a shot rang out. 

"Sounds like we have dinner," Athos said.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the last chapter, didn't really knit as well as I would have liked. However, moving on....

"I can handle it," d'Artagnan announced, glaring at the other three across the room. 

"They could kill him," Athos said. "He wouldn't be the first if the reports are accurate." 

"No they won't," d'Artagnan said, cutting across Treville's reasoned argument as to why they needed to use d'Artagnan as bait. All four men looked at him with varying expressions. d'Artagnan smirked with amusement, and spoke with certainty. 

"They won't kill an omega. If I go in with a clear scent, they will know what I am. Makes me more valuable alive. And they won't waste that." 

"Really? Is that why we found you in the midst of an omega hunt. I can't imagine that any of them were concerned for your safety," Athos said. 

"They knew me," d'Artagnan said, shifting his shoulder away from the wall, and he rested his back against it to face them fully. Aramis chuckled. 

"That would explain it," the Musketeer conceded. d'Artagnan grinned. Treville looked from one side of his office, with three alphas, to the other side, occupied by the most troublesome omega he had ever known. And over time that opinion was not revising itself. 

"You three will be there anyway. Arrive at the inn ahead of d'Artagnan, so you'll be in position. The only way to draw them out, and ensure a clear sight of them, is to have something that's going to attract them." 

d'Artagnan nodded. "I can wash off any scent mask off. If my scent is clear, then they will take the bait." 

"What are you using?" Treville asked. "Scent wise." 

"Pierre leant me some of his," d'Artagnan said. "I think it's mostly lavender." 

"What did you used to use?" Athos asked. 

"Hay and grass," d'Artagnan said. "Readily available on a farm." 

"Good for rolling in," Aramis agreed. 

"How can we be sure he won't go on a detour," Porthos asked, pausing his tight pacing and giving d'Artagnan a pointed look. The omega sighed inwardly. It had been two weeks since that debacle, when Bonnaire had distracted Porthos and Aramis enough for him to slip away, only to get tangled up with Athos' problems and his alleged 'ghost' with a fondness for fire. 

"I won't." He had been on his best behaviour since then, but the large alpha was still prickly about it, snapping at him occasionally, but he hadn't attempted anything further physically. Aramis had put the bad reaction down to the revelations about Bonnaire's business activities. Athos had merely watched carefully. Still, d'Artagnan found them impossible to fathom. It was frustrating for both sides. 

"Is this...?" Treville asked, looking for a hint, realising the tension was more than the alphas reaction to what he was asking d'Artagnan to do. 

"It's internal," Athos said, indicating it was between the alpha group and the omega. And those things stayed private. 

"If that's the case you'd better tell the king as he is also one of d'Artagnan's alphas," Treville said. Athos shook his head. 

"There's no need, it's nothing," d'Artagnan said. Porthos shrugged, looking dissatisfied but he said nothing further. Treville stood up. 

"Be ready to ride out, d'Artagnan can follow behind, and enter the inn alone. Ask for a room, and just ensure you are noticed." 

"Not a problem," d'Artagnan said. 

"What if there isn't a room available?" Aramis asked. 

"If they scent me, there will be," d'Artagnan said firmly. "If they are taking advantage of people travelling on the road, they will think I am an easy target. Which I'm not." 

He wasn't, and certainly wouldn't be with the three alphas at his back. And it was getting to the point he needed to do something to break the impasse between them. It couldn't carry on or, if nothing else, Treville might try to pass him on to other Musketeers. 

"You don't have to do this," Athos advised him. 

"I know I don't," d'Artagnan said. "But I can do it." 

"I want you all ready within the hour. Dismissed." 

They all left. d'Artagnan washed the scent off himself, leaving him clear of everything. He wasn't carrying much in the way of alpha scent, as the three Musketeers had been careful around him. He had only really been close to Louis, and that was sporadic, depending on what the king was doing. He re-dressed and went into the main yard. The other three were ready, their horses tacked. Athos mounted up and looked down at him. 

"We'll see you in a little while. Be careful on the road." 

"I'll be fine." 

"Be sure you are," Porthos growled at him. Aramis winked. The three of them rode out of the gates, and Pierre appeared a second later with Buttercup tacked up and ready. 

"They'll probably push the pace, you can just go a little more leisurely." 

Buttercup snorted and pulled Pierre towards d'Artagnan. She nuzzled his hair and ear, inhaling deeply, her lip curling up as she took in the stronger omega scent. d'Artagnan deflected the questing nose. 

"I thought she hated everyone." 

"I think just alphas. That's the reason I thought you might like her." 

"Ah; you left her in the royal stables." 

Pierre jumped as Buttercup nipped him. He very carefully moved away from her. 

"But she's made her preference very clear. Me she tolerates, you she loves." 

"Nice to know someone around here does," d'Artagnan said as several alphas passed him, their expressions angry and lustful. Pierre glanced at them and shrugged, safely ignoring them. If anyone went to far with him they had six Musketeers to deal with. 

"More people than you think I imagine. I'll hold her." 

d'Artagnan took the hint and swung himself up onto her back. Pierre moved to the horses' side, and patted d'Artagnan's thigh. 

"Don't take Porthos' bluster too seriously. I think you hurt his feelings." 

He slapped Buttercup's rump and dodged her flailing foot as she trotted out of the Garrison. Pierre glanced up at Treville, who had been watching the entire interaction. He glanced down at his oldest omega. Pierre shrugged. 

"They'll work it out." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

By the time he reached the inn d'Artagnan was trying to unknot some of Pierre's words and hints. The mention of hurting Porthos' feelings nagged at him. It could hardly have been the reason the alpha was being so acidic with him. Running away was hardly a big deal. Certainly not for d'Artagnan. It hadn't occurred to him to try and view it from the Musketeers perspective. 

He dismounted and walked Buttercup to the stable. It was probably best he settled her first. Logic of her behaviour, and his own ingrained habits, dictated the decision. At the farm, horses and livestock were always fed before humans. 

Normally he might have spent more time with her, but on this occasion he un-tacked her, gave her a cursory brush and fed her, leaving the mare happily eating. Before he left he stroked her nose and leant it. 

"Please behave, we are under cover." 

She gave him a reassuring snort and nudge, then went back to her hay. d'Artagnan left her, glancing at the three horses on the far side of the barn. Athos, Porthos and Aramis were in situ, and were more than likely drinking in the common room. They wouldn't have taken a room, instead working on the pretence of resting the horses and moving on before dark. Shouldering his saddle bags, d'Artagnan made his way to the inn. 

As he entered there was no reason for the three Musketeers not to glance in his direction as more than one set of eyes turned to him. The people nearest stirred with interest as he passed them, the omega scent causing a stir. d'Artagnan paid it no heed. He just ignored it, easily brushing the comments and attempted touches aside. 

"I need a room," d'Artagnan said as he reached the innkeeper. d'Artagnan focused on the man, but watched the flicker as a chain of communication moved around the room. The three alphas at his back no doubt saw it, as the landlord looked at someone lingering nearby, a man sitting in the shadows, keeping his head down. His head raised and lowered, and the landlord nodded. 

"Of course." 

d'Artagnan decided to annoy him by bartering for the room, since they didn't want to lose him. He paid the money and the let the maid lead him up to a room on the upper floor. 

"Is there any way to get some water to wash with?"

"There's a wash house at the back." 

d'Artagnan nodded at that. "Fine, I'll use that." 

There would be someone watching him from this point on. He might as well let them have a look at what they were hoping to catch. The maid, a beta, eyed him, and d'Artagnan, for a moment, thought that she was about to warn him. Her face creased for a moment, then smoothed out, although she looked worried. 

d'Artagnan put that snippet of information away. Her colouring and features matched the landlords, to the point d'Artagnan assumed she was related to the owner. It could very well be they had no choice in what they were doing. d'Artagnan decided to reserve judgement on the owners, and other patrons, until the mission had been done. Opening the saddle packs he sifted through them, pulling out a clean shirt and heading down to the wash house. 

He spotted the man looking out for him immediately, although no one else entered the bath house. d'Artagnan obligingly stripped his top half to give them a good view. He drew the line at going any further, but he washed, changed his shirt and shrugged his tunic back on, having shown enough to ensure interest, and picked his pistol up again, which he had brought with him. He had left the sword in the room, along with some of the coin he had with him. It would be interesting to see if anything would be taken, but he would certainly know if someone had been through his possessions. There was nothing to hint about where he was from, or ties to any alpha. 

As d'Artagnan headed back the voice was familiar, the behaviour was not; as Porthos staggered out, looking the worse for wear, which d'Artagnan knew was an utter put on as he met Porthos' eyes. Clearly the alpha had come to check on him. d'Artagnan winked and then pulled a disdainful expression together, easing away from Porthos as if he was contaminated. Porthos mumbled some drunken gibberish as Aramis came out. The clumsy swing almost made d'Artagnan laugh out loud, but he kept the sneer on his face. Aramis turned to him, leant in to sniff, as any alpha would. d'Artagnan's hand went to his pistol in a less than subtle gesture.

"My apologies for my friend here. He clearly can't take his wine." 

Porthos growled and lurched to his feet in a perfect act of drunken pride. 

"Try dunking his head in the horse trough," d'Artagnan said as sneeringly as possible. In response Aramis did a perfect impression of offence. 

"I'll be sure to try that." 

D'Artagnan extracted himself from the situation and left the two Musketeers to continue to play their roles. 

"I don't like it," Porthos growled as Aramis pretended to try and get him up. 

"The little feral can handle himself, and we are right behind him. Slump by the stables, I'll leave you there." 

"Keep a good eye on him," Porthos warned as he dropped in Aramis' arms and fell to the ground. Aramis made a show of checking Porthos' state and then going into the inn to tell Athos they wouldn't be able to leave just yet, and maybe negotiate a room, now they knew where d'Artagnan had been housed. Neither of them behaved as if Porthos had done anything usual. Athos ordered more wine and took up a more comfortable position, tilting his hat down over his eyes. Aramis looked around and caught the barmaids eye, giving her a knowing look. 

They had made their excuses to stay. Porthos was now playing guard waiting for any new arrivals, and had checked d'Artagnan at the same time. 

d'Artagnan went back up to his room, not entirely sure what his three alphas were planning, but they were clearly getting ready for anything. He checked the items in his room, if he hadn't been so careful he might have thought that no one had been in his room, but things had been carefully moved, and replaced. Nothing had been taken, so they didn't want to alert him to any danger. He finished dressing and debated his next move. 

He didn't actually know. Would an omega on his own go down to the main room and risk being entangled in fending off alphas and betas. The common area was not that full, and if he was harassed, then no doubt one of his alphas would work a way to fend them off. 

Dithering for a minute he looked around then muttering in anger to himself, he grabbed his dagger and sword, strapping them on before heading downstairs. He took a table in the far corner and ordered food and wine from the tavern maid. 

The stew was fine. Athos, who was clearly keeping an eye on the room and the kitchen gave a subtle indication that the food was fine, the pot bubbling over the fire was too obvious to try and drug him. However, the wine was an entirely different story. 

"A bottle," d'Artagnan ordered the maid. "I'll open it." 

She nodded and brought it to him. Which meant that d'Artagnan could safely drink it. Not that he had any intention of doing so. At opportune moments the wine went on the floor. A returning, still slightly drunk seeming, Porthos stole his glass, with much apologising and flirting from Aramis, and d'Artagnan, behaving as if everyone's behaviour was quite enough for him took the remaining third up to his room and disposed of it out of the window, leaving the bottle on the side. Then he stripped down to his shirt and underwear and clambered into bed to wait and see what would happen next.


	7. Chapter Seven

He had drifted fitfully into a light sleep, but woke at the sound of a creak, which didn't come from the door, but above him. d'Artagnan looked up at the ceiling. He hadn't noticed any sort of trap doors in the room, but he hadn't thought to look up. As far as d'Artagnan knew he was on the uppermost floor. 

There was no point in pretending he hadn't heard. He sat up and reached for the dagger placed under the pillow. His heart thudded in his chest, as he moved. He stood up and reached his free hand out to take hold of the pistol that he had put on the nearby table, freezing as his hand touched only bare wood. A shiver of instinct rippled down his spine. The step behind him was light, but unmistakeable, and the blade that touched his neck glimmered in the flame of the nearby candle. They wouldn't kill him, immediately, but hurting him was an option, and for the sake of the part he was playing he needed to react carefully. 

"I'd put that down before you hurt yourself." 

d'Artagnan dropped the knife with a clatter, his mind racing, wondering how he could make enough noise to raise the alarm. The man behind him chuckled and then gave a low whistle. His eyes flickered as he caught movement in the rafters, and two men dropped through into the room, both of them alphas he realised, as he picked up the scent. The man behind him the same. d'Artagnan raised his hands and waited, wondering where Athos, Porthos and Aramis were. The men they were after had been concealed in the building, hiding; or had somehow got into the roof from outside. Surely Porthos would have seen something, having been out there on guard. 

The alpha behind him pushed him towards the bed. He stumbled and went down before he could land against it. 

"Tie him up, and keep him quiet," the lead man ordered. "I don't need to attract any attention." 

In a flash d'Artagnan reacted. Because the one thing he did need to do was attract attention. As the men moved in he kicked out, knocking one man off his feet, then he rose up, elbowing the second man in the face. He grabbed the gun from the second man and aimed a shot at the leader, although he knew he couldn't kill him, so he aimed for the man's arm. He dodged away when he realised what d'Artagnan was doing, so the shot went wide, the bullet slamming into the wall by the door. 

The noise, however, had the desired effect as there was a thunder of feet. d'Artagnan dived forward and grabbed his sword, rolling so he ended up in the corner, below the trap door. The men hesitated, the lead alpha stepped towards d'Artagnan, shifting the gun in his hand. 

"You two, block the door." 

The two men stepped forward. d'Artagnan glared at the leader. 

"You move, I'll shoot you," the alpha warned him. 

"If you say so." 

Shots ran out a little distance away, and d'Artagnan, momentarily distracted, only caught the leader's eye flicker at the last moment before a fourth man dropped from the hatch. d'Artagnan managed to deflect the worst of the attempted blow to the head, but went down under the man's weight. It was enough to keep him down as the leader grabbed his belt which he had draped over the back of a chair, clearly aiming to tie him with it. d'Artagnan rather objected to being tied up with his own clothing, although there had been times it had happened to him. 

The noises on the stairs were getting closer, the Musketeers on their way, but clearly there were more men in the inn. Although the feet were coming closer.

"You will not get out of this, those men are Musketeers," he told the leader. 

"You're not." 

"No. But I'm their omega," d'Artagnan said. The man holding him grabbed his hair and sniffed him. 

"He doesn't smell of alpha," he said, and the smell distracted him. 

As the door burst open d'Artagnan dropped his head and then slammed it back connecting hard with the man's jaw, and he brought up his hand to grab the leaders wrist, pulling the arm towards him. The man slammed his other hand into d'Artagnan's stomach and the air shot from his lungs. As he struggled to breath the alpha grabbed his hair and got the gun to his neck. The two men blocking the door went down and the three Musketeers froze as they saw the gun pointed at him. Aramis pointed his pistol and waited. 

"I'll shoot him." 

"Shame I'll miss what they'll do to you without me to shield you," d'Artagnan said. 

"Shut up!" he snapped. 

"No chance of that," Aramis informed him. d'Artagnan laughed. The leader stilled as he looked at Athos. 

"And you should be dead." 

"I'm clearly not." 

"Fortunately he had someone who the king listens to, persuading him of Athos' innocent wasn't exactly difficult," d'Artagnan said. 

"I have friends as well." 

"Not as good as mine," d'Artagnan told him, and he made a grab for the gun. A second later a shot rang out, and the man fell back from him. d'Artagnan got a firm grip of his own gun, falling from the alpha's hand, and shuffled backwards ready to follow up. It was unnecessary, the man was dead. 

A second later Porthos hoisted him onto his feet, his hands running over the omega, checking him for injuries. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

"That would make a change," Aramis said moving closer to look at his work, peering down at the dead man. d'Artagnan frowned as Porthos took him by the scruff of the neck and pulling him closer inhaled deeply. d'Artagnan tried to bat him off as Aramis looked up at the trap door and Athos started to search the lead alpha's body. 

"You smell nice," Porthos informed him. 

"Thank you." 

"Very nice," he added, refusing to let d'Artagnan go. It occurred to him they hadn't caught his full scent over the previous few weeks. The false heat had distorted it, and he had been carefully overlaying it to conceal it since then. 

"Get off me!" d'Artagnan successfully batted him off, Porthos gave him another look over to assure himself the omega was fine. d'Artagnan let him as he watched Athos search the alpha's clothing and produce a sheaf of papers. He eyed them carefully. 

"This has the king's seal." 

"I need those," d'Artagnan said, ignoring Porthos, who remained as close as he could to d'Artagnan. d'Artagnan held his hand out, with a slightly pleading expression, willing Athos not to ask any questions. Athos looked at him for a moment, then without a word, handed him the papers, which clearly belonged to d'Artagnan's other alpha. 

He tucked the papers away as quickly as possible, rummaging through his clothes to get himself dressed again, while continuing to fend Porthos off. 

"What do we do now?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"I think most of the people involved are dead," Athos said. "Although the landlord may well be complicit." 

"I think he was forced into it. He has two daughters." 

"Easily blackmailed then. I only saw one girl." 

"I think they're both here," d'Artagnan said. "But that man most certainly threatened them." 

"Hell of a set up for a few letters," Porthos said. 

"Why set up Athos though?" Aramis asked. 

"Make people look the other way. It's how the trick works. The Musketeers would be distracted," d'Artagnan said, feeling very aware of Porthos' hand resting on his hip, pulling him close, as if the bigger man needed to reassure himself that d'Artagnan was fine. 

"I'm still amazed the Cardinal didn't have you arrested," Aramis said to Athos. 

"So am I," Athos said, looking at d'Artagnan. 

"He tried; I stopped him," d'Artagnan said. "I said you were that arrogant; but not that stupid." 

Porthos gave a snort of laughter. Athos stood up. 

"I'll talk to the landlord, you three can remove the bodies." 

As he walked past d'Artagnan he paused, looking at him steadily. 

"And I am not arrogant," he drawled. 

"Of course you're not." 

Athos went on his way. Aramis stepped over the body and went to d'Artagnan. 

"Sorry, I just have to now." 

He leant in and pressed his face into d'Artagnan's neck, inhaling deeply. 

"He's right, you do smell nice." 

d'Artagnan flailed, pushing the two alphas off him.

"Get off me!" he stepped away. 

"Are you sure you're all right?" Porthos asked. 

"Yes, I'm fine, perfectly fine." 

Aramis smirked as Porthos continued to sniff. "I think you need to go and play in the hay."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

When they rode back in the morning d'Artagnan headed straight to the palace. He left Buttercup grazing on one of the lawns, and headed into the palace, and went straight through to his room, and down the corridor to Louis. 

"Have you got them?"

d'Artagnan produced the letters from his tunic, handing them to the king. 

"Thank goodness," the Queen said as she appeared in the room. d'Artagnan inclined his head at her, which caused her back to tense slightly. Louis moved closer to d'Artagnan, which caused her jaw to tense and she went from the room as the king pressed himself against d'Artagnan. The omega was not surprised when the king inhaled deeply. 

"You smell of other alphas?"

"Only my own," d'Artagnan announced. "They were a bit anxious on the way home." 

"And the men in question." 

"All dead, unfortunately," d'Artagnan said. Rather unfortunate as the leader may have been able to implicate the Cardinal. Still he had retrieved the letters, which was the most immediate problem.

"Oh, thank God," Louis said, cradling the packet of papers carefully. 

"Check they are all there," d'Artagnan warned him. "Look now," he added in response to Louis' expression of surprise. The King did as d'Artagnan bid, going through the letters. 

"They are all there," Louis said. 

"Good," d'Artagnan said. "Now you need to get Athos off the hook, completely."

"Was he...?"

"Nothing like that," d'Artagnan said. "I'm not just going to allow you to fall for such obvious tricks." 

"Do you trust him?" 

"I do. As much as I trust anyone," d'Artagnan said. He blinked, but felt very unsurprised as Louis moved closer to him. 

"Do you trust me?" 

"Yes," d'Artagnan said. "I do." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Your Majesty, is something wrong?" Treville asked her. 

"Nothing is wrong," Anne said stiffly, entirely aware that the question was entirely put on, and one of her closest alphas knew her mood. 

"Things seemed to have worked out well." Even Treville felt a little out of the loop as d'Artagnan conversed with the king. Anne watched him warily. 

"I do not think d'Artagnan aims to be disrespectful."

The Queen turned her head and glared at him. 

"I have seen some of the omegas the king has... entertained," Treville said. 

"So have I, and there polite acknowledgements of 'the Queen'." 

"I do not think that d'Artagnan means any disrespect. Far from it. He is, sadly, quite knowledgeable about the worst traits of alphas, but that does not mean he is not naive in other respects. He has never been given the choice of saying no, to anyone. He fights against it, but in the end, all he knows is giving in. And how does he say no the King of France."

"He has other alphas, he has the right of refusal."

"That is one thing he does not know. All he knows is that alphas want him, and he manages that as best he can. The king is hardly unkind him?" 

"Of course not! At least not in my experience." Anne said, flushing slightly at the sudden intimacy of the conversation. 

"I apologise Your Majesty, I meant no disrespect." 

"No, of course not." she turned to look again at her husband and d'Artagnan. "You have given me something to think about."


	8. Chapter Eight

He couldn't avoid a single mess it appeared.

d'Artagnan huddled down, trying to be unobtrusive as the Cardinal looked him over. 

"You cannot stay here. You are safer away, we need to remove you to another location." 

The moment the Cardinal came across the omega huddled in the gardens he knew exactly what had happened. D’Artagnan flinched away from him, but the Cardinal knew he couldn’t leave him huddled where he was. Nor did he think it was wise to let him stay at the palace. 

D’Artagnan tried to sit up, looking like less of a victim, although his back screamed with pain, and he knew blood trickled from various wounds. The Cardinal assessed him for a moment before turning to the guards. 

“Find the Musketeer Athos, try the Garrison first, leave a message if he is not present, but tell no one else of the situation; only him.” 

D’Artagnan frowned listening to the instructions, which were being made to clearly protect him. Or more likely him by default, as it was clear that the Cardinal knew who had done this to him, and needed no more issues with the Duke.

“Get into my carriage.” 

d'Artagnan looked at him warily, but the guard had headed off to do as the Cardinal had ordered. To fetch Athos. 

"Come with me now," he added, stepping towards d'Artagnan, who tensed, which caused the guards to react warily. 

"Steady," the Cardinal said, taking d'Artagnan's wrist, holding gently, but letting the omega feel the alpha strength underneath. "Little Feral, we need to leave." 

He used the nickname most of the Musketeers and even the Red Guard had for d'Artagnan. Affectionately used, or as an insult, it meant that it flickered in d'Artagnan's mind. He relaxed slightly. 

"You need to come with me." The Cardinal stood up and stepped back. d'Artagnan followed him. He stood up slowly. The two remaining Red Guard almost stepped forward to help him, but d'Artagnan glowered at them, until he stumbled and they jumped forward to grab him. 

The two guards lifted him and soon had him in the nearby carriage. They shoved him in none to gently, but it registered in d’Artagnan’s mind that none of their touches had been what he had come to expect. They were certainly not taking no for an answer, and he winced as his bruised body landed on the floor of the carriage, but they had hardly behaved as intimately as the Red Guard usually did. 

The Cardinal put his foot on the step to clamber into the carriage, having issued further instructions. It rocked under his weight as he settled himself in the seat, and gave the guards a penetrating glare. 

“And if this information is heard anywhere else, I will know where it has come from; is that clear.” 

If the look in his eye was anything to go by, it would be a very bad idea for the any of the guards to start mentioning it to their comrades. Which again, d’Artagnan didn’t think had much to do with protecting him, but more to do with keeping the embarrassment of what happened safely under wraps. Still, he supposed he couldn’t argue, although what Athos would make of the whole affair remained to be seen. Athos was the wisest choice to deal with him. Porthos would be a raging bull and Aramis was far too wrapped up with Marsac to be of any use. 

“How long were you with him?” the Cardinal asked bluntly. He poured a glass of wine and handed it to d'Artagnan. 

“Two hours, maybe a little more. He was called away.” 

The Duke had merely released him and shoved him out of the terrace windows, leaving him to clumsily go on his way. He had managed to get back into his clothes, and then had sat down, somewhere he thought was quiet. He couldn’t risk returning to the palace in case the Duke was still around somewhere. And he hadn’t wanted to go to the Garrison. He wasn’t entirely sure how he would have made the journey. The Cardinal clearly has similar thoughts. 

D’Artagnan closed his eyes and rested against the nearby seat. He couldn’t be bothered to clamber up off the floor and the Cardinal left him to his own thoughts. It was only when the carriage slowed that d’Artagnan opened his eyes again. Richelieu opened the carriage door. 

“Get in,” he ordered. 

Athos moved closer, confused by the request, until he saw d’Artagnan; at which point he got in, and took the seat opposite the Cardinal. He pulled his left glove off and ran his fingers into d’Artagnan’s hair. It was unusual for Athos to be so physical, but d’Artagnan didn’t put him off. 

“What happened?” Athos asked, he glanced at d’Artagnan, who clearly wasn’t ready to talk; then looked at Richelieu. 

“The Duke of Savoy has certain… tastes,” he said almost rolling the last word around his mouth. “You probably shouldn’t have left d’Artagnan at the palace.” 

“A little late for a warning don’t you think?” Athos said easing d’Artagnan’s shirt away from his back. 

“Perhaps.” 

Athos nodded, and leant out of the window to give the driver some directions. D’Artagnan hardly listened. Instead he glared at the Cardinal, who chose to ignore him.

“Are you able to walk some distance?” Athos asked him. 

“I’ll be fine,” d’Artagnan said. 

“Best I don’t take him to the Garrison, otherwise we will have more than a few enraged Musketeers on your hands. Which presumably you,” he said to the Cardinal, “Do not want, since the message left at the Garrison was rather vague.” 

“The Duke needs to sign this treaty. There are more things at play here than you can imagine.” 

“Like the last time,” Athos hinted. There certainly had been since d’Artagnan had taken possession of the king’s letters, and most certainly, as Athos presumed, returned them to the man himself, effectively cutting the Cardinal out of the loop. The question was there, had the Cardinal put d’Artagnan in line of sight as revenge for catching the rogue Gaudet. 

“That was a miscalculation. Your little feral made the king easily believe you couldn’t possibly be behind it.” 

D’Artagnan’s voice was rough as he lifted his head and spoke. “A masked man walks into a tavern to rob the guests or robs people on the road, and tells them his name, thereby rendering the concealment pointless. A child could see through the illogic of that. Other than the fact you wanted people to think it was Athos, but not recognise him by any other means.” 

“Would have been better if I could have used Porthos, he’s the jumped up gutter brat,” Richelieu said. “And the King is a child.” 

“Except you would never find anyone of his physical description to match,” d’Artagnan told him. “And the king is not a child. He’s childlike, but not a child. You can’t hide him in your skirts forever.” 

The Cardinal glared at him. D’Artagnan looked back steadily.

“If nothing else, there will come a time you won’t be here to do it.” 

Which seemed to be, Athos judged, one of the Cardinal’s fears. And Athos decided it was time to get d’Artagnan away from the debate. He banged the side of the coach and it pulled to a halt, a little further away from his destination that he would have liked but d’Artagnan would manage; he usually did. Athos opened the door and clambered out, d’Artagnan levered himself up and followed, taking a moment to steady himself. His body flickered with pain, and he felt light-headed, but Athos took his arm automatically and d’Artagnan leant into him slightly, concealing the movement from the Cardinal and his entourage. The Cardinal leant forward. 

“For the record, I did not deliberately put your little feral in danger, this time. It avails me nothing to see him damaged. For the moment.” 

They both watched as the door closed and the carriage went on its way. 

“Is it me or was that a warning of some kind?” d’Artagnan asked. 

“You have not endeared yourself to the Cardinal by being someone the king listens to. However, I don’t think he has quite given up on you switching sides.” 

“The only side I am on is my own,” d’Artagnan told him. 

“If you insist,” Athos said. “Are you able to walk? It’s not too far.” 

“I’m fine, as long as we go a little slow.”

However, it took no more than five minutes before they were at an unfamiliar door. Athos banged on the wood loudly, for it to be answered a second later by Constance.

“Oh!” 

She backed up as Athos bundled d’Artagnan over the threshold, at which point he could probably stop his pretence, and Athos got him into a chair, so he could slump face down on the table. Adrenaline, and a need to get away, had kept him moving. Since that had been achieved his body then wanted to point out it had been through quite enough. Constance gave a gasp as she lifted d’Artagnan’s shirt to look at the mess underneath.

“Can I take him upstairs?” Athos asked her. 

“Yes. My husband is away, so it shouldn’t be too complicated,” Constance said. “I’ll fetch some water, and supplies.” 

D’Artagnan lifted his head, watching as the young woman bustled off to get what they needed. Athos pulled the omega to his feet again. He huffed with pain, his head spinning slightly, but he got his feet under him and allowed Athos to hoist him upstairs. He clearly knew exactly where he was going as they reached the landing and Athos steered him towards a door, pushing it open and getting him into the bedroom, letting him flop face down on the bed. 

“You seem very familiar with this place.”

“Madame Bonacieux is a friend of the Musketeers,” Athos said. D’Artagnan lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. 

“Not her husband?” 

“No, but this is why he makes the uniforms and does other work for us. He knows it will cease if he interferes with the arrangement. And we are careful not to bring any danger to his door. The other omegas find it useful if the alphas at the Garrison are getting too rowdy.” 

D’Artagnan nodded. “You didn’t tell me that.” 

“I’m telling you now.” 

He had to concede that. Plus he generally stayed at the palace, and it was large enough to evade anyone. His own room was only entered by the servants and the king, and there was only one alpha who would invade his privacy there. 

“You are probably free to use the room in the same way, as long as you do not annoy Madame Bonacieux.” 

“And how could a Musketeer possibly annoy me?” she asked drolly as she returned with a water jug, strips of material draped over her forearm, and two small vials in her other hand. Athos gave her a knowing smile. D’Artagnan blinked. Athos didn’t seem to smile at many people. He was a recipient occasionally, as were his two alpha comrades. Now clearly Constance was an object of his affection. Hardly noticing, she put the jug down on the side and started to sort the material. Athos poured water into a nearby bowl and then held out his hand. Constance handed him a vial. 

“I presume this one is another troublemaker,” she asked Athos. 

“Possibly the worse one you will ever encounter,” he told her. 

“I am here you know,” d’Artagnan grumbled, and getting the hint started to try and get out of his clothes, wincing as he did so. Constance went to help him, working competently, stripping his top half, and frowning as she looked at the bleeding lash marks on his back. 

“Are there any lower down?” Athos asked. D’Artagnan nodded, feeling his face flush slightly. Constance took the hint. 

“I’ll get some food. I may need to go to the market though.” 

“Go by the Garrison as well, if Porthos isn’t there, leave a message. Don’t mention what’s happened.” 

“What about Aramis?” 

“I don’t think this is something we can bring him into at the moment.” 

“The Duke?” Constance said looking down at the wounds on d’Artagnan’s back. 

“His handiwork, yes. But the treaty needs signing, so it might be wise for d’Artagnan to lay low.” 

The look on d’Artagnan’s face didn’t hold agreement.

“How is Aramis?” Constance asked. 

“That’s complicated.” 

“Are you sure you should let Porthos see this?” Constance asked as Athos very carefully started on the wounds on d’Artagnan’s back. 

“I can’t hide it from both of them. And telling the king would be… unwise. Also leave a message for the Captain. Ensure he tells the king that d’Artagnan has been called to the Garrison.” 

Constance nodded. “I’ll not be long.” 

She left swiftly, her feet hurried down the stairs. d'Artagnan flinched as Athos pressed into a very raw looking wound. He held himself still, curling up slightly on the bed. Athos said nothing, continuing with what he was doing. 

d'Artagnan was glad. He didn't want to hear any soothing platitudes. The only words Athos spoke was to warn d'Artagnan when he was going to wash the more vicious looking wounds. d'Artagnan slowly relaxed, letting the pain wash over him, his mind taken to wherever, Athos assumed, he could make himself feel safe. He only roused slightly when there was a heavy thunder of feet on the stairs. 

"Porthos," Athos identified. 

That made d'Artagnan relax slightly, but he was still wary of Porthos. The large alpha opened the door and stepped into the room. d'Artagnan had no desire to interact with anyone, so he kept his eyes closed, and levelled his breathing out. He heard footsteps, but tried to tune the surrounding noise out. Through the haze he heard Porthos' intake of breath. 

"What did the Little Feral do?"

"Nothing, other than be in the wrong place," Athos said. 

"The Duke," Porthos said flatly, then said something deeply unflattering, which d'Artagnan let wash through his mind. He rippled with tension again as he sensed Porthos move closer. 

"Just me," Porthos said. d'Artagnan felt a hand under his head and shoulders, lifting him and Porthos slid under him, sitting up at the head of the bed, and then gently resting d'Artagnan's head on his thigh. His fingers brushed the omega's hair back off his face, and he encouraged d'Artagnan to relax against him. He ran his fingers d'Artagnan's hair, gently rubbing his scalp with his fingertips. 

"d'Artagnan, I need to move lower," Athos warned. D'Artagnan shifted in discomfort but didn't resist as Athos' hand went to the lacing of his underwear, unfastening them and pulling them down d'Artagnan's legs. Porthos' expression turned murderous as he saw the damage that had been inflicted on d'Artagnan, mingled with curiosity as he saw old scars. Not that he could be surprised, d'Artagnan was something of a test of patience, but even Porthos wouldn't have considered punishing him to this extent. He felt even more furious as d'Artagnan's hand latched onto the material of his trousers, gripping hard. He made no sound and hardly flinched as Athos continued to bathe the wounds. 

"Did he..?" Athos asked delicately. Porthos gave a less than delicate growl. 

"Not himself, he put something in there," d'Artagnan's voice said softly. 

Athos said nothing further, he just washed the rest of the wounds. d'Artagnan again retreated to whatever part of his mind he was comfortable with. Porthos gently stroked his hair, and thankfully, as Athos had done, didn't bother with any reassuring platitudes. Instead he listened to Athos and Porthos talk, while he also vaguely interpreted the sounds further in the kitchen, which combined with the smell to indicate that Constance was busy in the kitchen. 

"I am going to kill that man," Porthos concluded. 

"Steady, I think we have enough problems without including the murder of the Duke of Savoy." 

"There is something else going on," d'Artagnan mumbled. 

"What is going on?" Athos asked. 

"Something to do with someone who disappeared. He suspects the Cardinal." 

"Unsurprising," Porthos said. "He's involved in most things." 

"Did this person have a name?" 

d'Artagnan frowned, unsure if he really remembered correctly. 

"I think it might have something to do with what happened to the Musketeers." 

"What makes you say that?"

"It sounds like it all happened at the same time." 

"We need to find Aramis, and Marsac."

"I will go as soon as we have dealt with d'Artagnan." 

"I'll stay with him," Porthos said. 

"No, I think we both need to deal with this. Madame Bonacieux can take care of him." 

"I'm sure I can," she said from the doorway. She held a pot of stew, wrapped up in a thick cloth. She put it on the table and started to set up the meal. 

"You can eat, all of you," she ordered. d'Artagnan lifted his head, Porthos gently smoothing the hair from his eyes, to see her looking at Athos sternly. 

"We'll see if we can find anything out." Athos looked down at d'Artagnan. "You need to stay hidden; as much as I hate to disagree with the Cardinal, we need to keep you away from this situation. I do not want you near the Duke of Savoy." 

"And Marsac can't be trusted," Porthos said. Athos clenched his jaw.

"At this moment in time Aramis cannot be relied on either," Athos said. "We investigate this. If I find anything else I will send a message. Get some rest, we may need you later." 

d'Artagnan nodded. Constance smiled. 

"I'll look after him. Now eat, the lot of you!"


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan is less than subtle.

D’Artagnan must have slept, he felt oddly light, his mind drifting as the pain washed over his body. It didn’t bother him. He had felt worse. As he analysed the ripples on his back, he knew it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. For someone else it might have been but he probably had a higher tolerance than most people. During training his three alphas had done more damage than they probably realised. D’Artagnan had very carefully concealed the bruises. 

It hadn’t been difficult. He ensured that he cleaned himself up at the palace where he had better privacy. And Louis didn’t honestly know any better. D’Artagnan shrugged off the bruises and Louis seemed to accept every explanation he gave. It was never the physical effects that caused him any concern. And his mind had relaxed over the last few weeks. 

Too much, it would seem. He hadn't felt this incapacitated mentally since he encountered the three men who seemed so determined to keep him. Still, he thought to himself, physical injuries first. 

As he moved, stretching his legs out, he realised that more than likely the three Musketeers would be horrified if they knew what they had done physically. Maybe they actually did. d’Artagnan had no wish to challenge the very careful equilibrium that seemed to flicker between them. They seemed very assured that he was not likely to attempt to run away, and they continued as they thought they should. Between them their behaviour had the usually domineering, almost bullying, character that d’Artagnan was used to, but he also sensed they were measuring themselves carefully, knowing some of his rather aggressive, negative, reactions.

Very slowly he lifted his head. Feeling the ripples of pain, to get the best measure of his injuries, d’Artagnan got himself onto his hands and knees and then knelt back looking around. The house had a quiet air, but that probably meant that Constance was downstairs. She had ensured they ate, then settled d'Artagnan and told him to call if he needed anything. 

She had prepared everything for him. There was a jug of water on the washstand. His clothing had been tidied up and neatly folded on the clotheshorse nearby, waiting for him, and his weapons had been laid out on the table, next to which was a plate of bread and cheese and a bottle of wine. He exhaled heavily and stood up. There was no point aggravating the wounds, but as he moved, he realised the pain didn't bother him. He was wrapped up in bandages, so that would minimize the damage. 

Getting off the bed he drank some of the wine and nibbled at the bread and cheese. He didn't feel hungry, there was the odd sense of lightness, almost freedom, that the pain brought, and too much food could taint that. 

He supposed he could have called Constance for help, and after a moments pause he could hear the sound of her moving about, and as he headed out of the room, and down the stairs, strapping on his weapons as he went, there was the low murmur of voices. One of his alphas he supposed, or maybe Constance's husband, or another Musketeer left to guard him. 

As he heard the crash, and Constance's yelp of anger, he stopped being careful and hurried down the stairs, arriving in time to see the man trying to kiss her. His arrival, even his presence, was clearly not expected. Launching himself forward he dragged the man off her and gave him a solid punch in the face sending him reeling to the floor. 

"You touch her again, I will kill you." 

Constance moved behind him, but she picked up a heavy candlestick at the same time, wielding the improvised weapon as if she knew exactly how to use it. The man on the floor looked up at them, slowly getting to his feet. 

"My apologies, I've not been around a pretty woman for a while." 

"I'm sure they are all glad of that," d'Artagnan said, ensuring that Constance stayed behind him. 

"Who is this?" he asked her. 

"Marsac. Athos asked if he could stay here." 

"The one Aramis knows, at the massacre. Why did they leave him here? What's going on?" 

"It's nothing to do with you omega," he said. "You're not a Musketeer." 

d'Artagnan gave him a steady glare. "Neither it seems, are you." 

The man looked furious, jumping forward to slam against d'Artagnan. He pushed Constance away just in time as Marsac slammed into him, driving d'Artagnan to the ground. His back bloomed with pain as he landed heavily, but it didn't slow him down. He slammed his hand into the man's sternum, driving the air from his lungs, and followed up with a hit to his jaw, so he reeled back. Constance clearly planned to follow up with a blow from the candlestick but by that time the others burst in and Marsac was bodily lifted off of d'Artagnan and thrown across the room. d'Artagnan rolled, coming up on one knee and yanking his pistol clear, ready to use. He recognised the hand in his hair as belonging to Athos. 

"You touch him again, I will kill you," Porthos growled; meaning it, d'Artagnan judged, by the tone of his voice. 

"I'll help," Constance said. 

"Me first," d'Artagnan added. "If nothing else, I've got the gun." 

"Good lad," Porthos said approvingly. As he couldn't get his hand to d'Artganan's hair because of Athos, his hand hovered by d'Artagnan's shoulder clearly wary of touching him if it was painful. d'Artagnan offered up his hand, which Porthos took, gripping his wrist, meaning he could also pull him up if he needed it. The moment d'Artagnan tensed his arm Porthos would get him onto his feet. 

"Are your injuries all right?" Athos asked. 

d'Artagnan tensed his arm and Porthos obliged. As he got onto his feet he turned to look at the three men. Aramis hung back, as if unsure of his involvement. 

"I'm fine," he said. The pain flickered up and down his back, and would do every time he moved, but it wasn't going to bother him. He felt steady enough, his body warmed from the glass of wine, and the smell of the three alphas he knew protected him. That was interesting, d'Artagnan thought to himself. 

"The wounds will need cleaning again at some point," Athos said. 

"They're fine for now," d'Artagnan told him, and turned his gaze to Aramis, who had inched closer. Constance put down the candlestick, slamming it against the table at the last moment. 

"You can get this man out of my house!" she announced. 

"What is he doing here?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"I asked if he could stay," Aramis said. "I didn't know you were here." 

"Athos said it wasn't wise to being you into d'Artagnan's situation," Constance said to d'Artagnan. "So I didn't think I ought to either. I was not going to allow him to go upstairs." 

"Good thing I was," d'Artagnan said. Marsac looked at him. 

"So, this is your new omega," he added to Aramis. "He's a little feral, isn't he?" 

"Very much so," Porthos said, sounding quite proud of that fact. Athos had removed his hand from d'Artagnan's hair, so Porthos gently brushed his fingers through it. Athos moved closer to d'Artagnan but he enabled Aramis to get closer, and d'Artagnan took a deliberate step back towards the third alpha, who then went closer and sniffed the back of his neck. 

"I smell blood." 

"I'm fine, the wounds are going to bleed. Athos did a good job with the bandages." 

"Thank you." 

"Savoy had you," Marsac said with a smirk on his face. 

"No, he didn't," d'Artagnan said. "He might have injured me, but he didn't have me." 

"There's a difference?" Aramis asked. 

"Yes, there is. At least to me. And he knew it," d'Artagnan said. Then held up his hands to pause any further queries and got what had come to his mind off his chest. 

"The name he mentioned was Cluzet, a Spanish spy, Savoy thinks he was grabbed by the Cardinal. They think he might be in Paris, which is why they are here. If they find him they can somehow avoid the treaty. I think," d'Artagnan said. "He smelt Louis on me, I think he wanted to wind him up by doing what he did. Not you, I don't have enough scent, other than leather. Although he ascribed the massacre to you. He was told by someone that the Musketeers were there to kill him and put his son in his place. He said that, I heard him." 

"How did you hear all that?" 

d'Artagnan turned and glared at Marsac. "Because I always listen. I will never leave a situation without an advantage to myself, whatever happens to me." 

"You believe this little.... " 

"Feral?" Porthos offered. 

"But the man who worked for Savoy said it was Treville who set us up!" Marsac said. "He was a witness." 

"Witness?" d'Artagnan asked, cogs in his mind moving as he worked that out. 

"He's dead, Marsac killed him," Athos said. 

"That's helpful," d'Artagnan told him. "Or convenient, depending on your point of view. Let me think." 

d'Artagnan pushed the alphas off him and moved away, going out of the room into the hallway. His feet thundered up the stairs and came down again coming back into the room, leaning on the doorframe as he looked at the three men. 

"We need to talk to Treville. I need to talk to him," d'Artagnan said. "I'll get better information. We need to know where this Cluzet is. Athos, Porthos, you stay by Savoy, he can't move, if you are there. I now can. What is the reason this is so charged. There is something I can't see, just a blind spot I can't work out." 

"Let's go the Garrison and talk to Treville," Athos said. 

"We do need to get back to the palace," Porthos said. 

"I wounded the leader of the attack," Marsac said. "He'll have a scar on his back." 

"Go to the palace, you two; I'll talk to Treville," d'Artagnan said. "What do we do with our friend." 

"I'll deal with him," Athos said. "So he does not bother our Madam Bonacieux again. Aramis can keep an eye on him. It is best he stays out of it."

"But.." Aramis said. d'Artagnan halted him with a hand to his chest. 

"Stay out of this, you can't deal with it." 

"And you can?" 

"Better than you know. I'll get the answers." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Treville was an alpha, it was doable. 

He washed his scent off carefully in the barracks and went up to the Captain's office. He wasn't there, so d'Artagnan blocked the door, sat down and started to read. He could read between lines as well as he could the ones on the page, and Savoy was missing. 

Where would the Cardinal put a man who needed to be hidden?

d'Artagnan rolled up the scrolls and sat back, biting his lip and musing to himself. 

There was only one way to do this. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I said I was not to be... disturbed." 

"Your guard is sleeping very peacefully. And quite frankly, you can hardly blame him," d'Artagnan said, putting his clothes back in place. 

"You fucked one of my guards to get in here." 

"No, just a good fondle and him in my mouth," d'Artagnan said. "I've done it for worse reasons, and better. What is going on? Because the Duke came to expose something and not my backside; as good at it is. Did Treville know the consequence of the information given to the Duke of Savoy?" 

"No, he did not. He would never have allowed it." 

"I guessed that. What was the reason for it?" 

"To protect France's most important spy in Savoy." 

"Who is?" 

The Cardinal hesitated. d'Artagnan looked around, and then pulled his pistol. 

"Who is?" 

"You think you can get out of here alive if you kill me." 

"Good point, but you are in a bind with this," d'Artagnan said. "You are involved with this situation, and I can let you fall, because Savoy won't stop until he tries and exposes you, which puts this treaty at risk, and if this protects Louis, and gets this done, then I will actually even allow you to fuck me over this table, or I'll just pin you, fuck you and leave you to rot." D'Artagnan paused and smirked. 

"Your choice, Your Eminence," 

"Eloquently put." 

"I am, very, when required," d'Artagnan said. "Now, tell me what I need to know." 

The Cardinal did. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I want you to know, I love my husband." 

"Which doesn't mean that you actually like him," d'Artagnan said, in a low voice. 

"There are aspects." 

"That's one way to phrase it." 

There was nothing more to be said, the treaty had been signed, d'Artagnan knew everyone's secrets and he had to keep them. 

Everyone's secrets. However hard they were. 

As he saw him walk away, he followed Aramis.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter looks like it's going nowhere, but it did something and then we need to get on.

"Are you quite comfortable there?" 

d'Artagnan looked up, squinting in the sun. "You said after we rested the horses we'd push on and stay in the town." 

"And that requires you to roll in a field because.." as Athos spoke comprehension dawned on his face. "I see." 

"Yes, exactly. Although most of my play alphas and betas smelt the same, so it hid a multitude of sins," d'Artagnan said, sitting up. "My father used to let me play in the hay barn when I was little. I never understood it then, but he didn't want anyone knowing too much, and I blended into the smell of the farm. It's a comfortable scent, my entire being knows it." 

"There is an inn just past the town, I intended to stay there." 

"It's fine Athos," d'Artagnan said, picking himself up out of the grass and brushing himself off. As he inhaled Athos caught the light scent on d'Artagnan, blending neatly with his omega self. Plus, d'Artagnan looked more relaxed than he ever had, coating himself in what was his familiar scent. It relaxed the omega as much as it concealed his own scent to alphas. 

"Very well. Although we are waiting on you dealing with Buttercup." 

"Won't take long," d'Artagnan said, as he headed up towards the road. He straightened himself up a little and jogged up the incline to the road. Buttercup continued to graze next to the saddle, clearly not letting anyone near the tack as she nibbled the grass. Porthos was rubbing his thigh, glaring at her as if he wanted to shoot her. 

"You should have just called me," d'Artagnan said. 

"We did." 

"Sorry," d'Artagnan said. Porthos huffed, and d'Artagnan tensed slightly. Buttercup flung up her head and snorted at Porthos, who looked startled. d'Artagnan put a hand on her hindquarters. 

"It's all right, step over now." 

She swung her rump away from him and let d'Artagnan saddle her up, he moved swiftly. He had left the bridle on and groomed her before he went to lie in the field. Again, habit, he though to himself. Animals needed care before people, his father taught him that. d'Artagnan took a deep breath as he lifted the reins over her head and Buttercup put her nose on his shoulder, close to his face. He leant against her for a second, clearly lost to something the three men with him were not part of. 

The other two took their lead from Athos as he mounted his stallion, and the movement seemed to snap d'Artagnan out of his contemplation. He hoisted himself up and steered Buttercup onto the track, next to Athos's horse, whom she seemed to like. They stayed in walk. 

"So, what are you three really up to?"

"Escorting you," Athos said. "You are delivering the documents to the Duke of Lorraine, not us." 

"You have been given other orders." 

"What makes you say that?" Porthos asked. 

"I asked Aramis," d'Artagnan said. The Musketeer blinked as the two other alphas glared at him. 

"I said nothing." 

"You can lie with your voice, but not your scent. When you lie it changes. Athos is better, but I know his tells, and Porthos is easy. Don't lie to me," he said, he trotted Buttercup forward and then turned her. "Don't. I know you are hiding something, so the worst thing you can do right now is lie. As if you think I might betray you." 

"Very well. We need to assess the Duke's assets, army, weapons, men, money, anything of suspicion. He had fought for independence before and is set to try again."

"Is he really? And you couldn't tell me this because? Whose mission is this?" 

"We are the King's Musketeers," Athos said. 

"Of course you are; I'm just his...?" 

d'Artagnan left that hanging as he pressed his legs to Buttercup's sides and she set off in a canter. He wouldn't push her harder than that as he did wonder; what was he, really? 

He had heard the words spoken in court and could live with it, but how did these men see him. He spent time with them, they touched him but he had done more intimate things with the Red Guard, when required. And they were far more respectful since the altercation with the Cardinal. Buttercup slowed as he sensed his sudden preoccupation. The Red Guard had been told, recently, to seduce him, rather than subdue him. It was a very interesting change of method. 

It was not the power he needed at the moment. He needed to gain control over his alphas. Looking at everything else, everyone else, had utterly blinded him to that fact. 

He pulled up a league or so from the town. They had stayed back from him, until he paused, turned Buttercup and waited for them. 

"I am not going to walk into a situation without knowing what the hell is going on. All of it. So, we spend the night here, and I ride one way or the other, depending on your answer." 

"The King expects you to deliver those messages," Athos said. 

"If I give Louis a feeble excuse, while I am fucking him, I think I will get away with it. You will never get that luxury. Now, I will not be lied to by you. I expect it from a good many people, you three, not at all." 

"I can't lie apparently," Aramis said. 

"Your scent is sweeter when you start to lie, plus you have a few physical tells. So does Athos. Porthos is a little harder to read, but I've looked less. He seems less inclined to lie to me." 

"The Captain wanted us to make a few observations, as I said," Athos said. "You were best not to be concerned." 

"Well, that's stupid, I have good observational skills, and take in more information that you clearly do, since I can read every move you make. Now..." 

"We are meant to be your guard. That is our main point here. You are still an eligible omega, and the King's omega at that. There is no deception in that," Athos said. "And we would never trust anyone else with your welfare." 

All three of them looked at him a little darkly. Porthos looked furious, which worried d'Artagnan, but he didn't think that the large alpha would hurt him. 

"Observations?" d'Artagnan asked again. 

"That's what I was told," Aramis said. d'Artagnan watched him steadily. 

"Fine," he said flatly. He turned Buttercup again, who sensed his irritation and flailed her hooves at the others. d'Artagnan gave her a light nudge and she trotted forward. The three alphas looked at each other and then followed. 

When they rode into the town they had caught up with him, staying close as they rode through the streets to the tavern. 

"We'll organise a room, you two deal with the horses." 

Porthos nodded, taking the reins of Aramis' horse off him, so d'Artagnan took the hint and took Athos' stallion in his left hand, leading Buttercup with the right. Neither of them spoke as they went into the stables, until Porthos, after securing the horses turned to d'Artagnan. 

"I'm sorry, if you think we're treating you as if...." 

"As if I am exactly what I am," d'Artagnan said. "Marsac was right, I'm not a Musketeer. What the hell am I? Other than the king's whore." 

"We have never said that." 

"You don't need to say it," d'Artagnan snapped. 

"And we haven't treated you any differently." 

"Except, you just have." d'Artagnan said. "I apparently can't be trusted with all the information." 

Porthos stepped forward, risking an encounter with Buttercup, whose ears flattened down, and she gave a warning snort. d'Artagnan shushed her, and moved so to get to Porthos she had to go through him. She danced on her hocks a little and watched Porthos carefully. d'Artagnan leant back against her rump, and she moved to steady him. 

"It's not that. What we are doing is not the point. Louis has to keep the messages running. The fact that Richelieu said you could be trusted means that you are trusted. And we know his game plan." 

"Richelieu probably knows what you are doing. And gives me more." 

d'Artagnan didn't speak again until they were sat in the main room of the inn. 

"I'm sorry." 

"What for?" Athos asked, his eyes not on d'Artagnan but the room. They had probably both seen the same things as they watched the people moving around the inn. 

"Being so stroppy. But I am right. I do not need my three alphas lying to me. My other alpha does not, but I have certain advantages." 

"We don't mind that," Athos said. "You are very aware of us, as we are of you, and you need to learn that intimacy does not necessarily mean sex."

d'Artagnan blinked, that thought had not occurred to him. Instead he watched the tavern maid, who he had scented out as omega the moment he had met her, try to avoid the cluster of men by the door. One of them got up to follow her, with much encouragement from his comrades. Putting his drink down d'Artagnan got up from the table. 

"Excuse me a moment," he said, nimbly moving around Athos, wary of the fact the alpha might try to stop him. Athos merely watched him. All three alphas surveyed the scene as d'Artagnan stepped between the advancing man and the female omega. Another man stepped up behind her, by the look of it he was a relative, and presumably one of her alphas. 

Porthos chuckled, as whatever d'Artagnan said was not taken well, he pushed the advancing man back, clearly causing outrage as the man identified his omega caste and lunged at him. D'Artagnan easily sidestepped, grabbed the man, off-balanced him and threw him, slamming him down on the floor. 

"I taught him that move," Porthos said proudly. Aramis chuckled. As the man tried to rise d'Artagnan punched him, knocking him out. 

The whole incident caused the man's comrades to move. 

"I think this upstart omega needs a lesson." 

"We can have them both," another man announced. 

The advancement paused as the three Musketeers all moved, standing up in unison and crossing the room to flank d'Artagnan. Athos brushed d'Artagnan's hair back. Aramis on the other side, ran his hand over his hip and Porthos, moving up behind him leant in to murmur in d'Artagnan's ear. 

"How's your back?" 

"I think that wound on my shoulder is bleeding again, but other than that it's fine," d'Artagnan murmured back. Porthos's hand rubbed the nape of his neck. 

"I would consider that very unwise," Athos said to the Duke's men, over the murmuring, staring steadily at the men who had threatened d'Artagnan. They hoisted their unconscious comrade out of the way and another of the men stepped forward. The three alphas moved, Athos stepping in front of d'Artagnan, but still giving him room to engage in the upcoming fight. Porthos moved to d'Artagnan's side, his hand still on the nape of his neck. Aramis shifted closer to Athos. The lead man focussed on Athos's shoulder. 

"What's a Musketeer doing here?" 

"That would be the business of the king," Athos said. "And none of yours." 

"This is my master's lands, and we are paid to protect him." 

"So, what are you doing here, harassing tavern maids," d'Artagnan asked. 

"She's an omega, she's asking for it." 

All three of his alpha's tensed. d'Artagnan lithely stepped forward. Athos felt d'Artagnan's hand on his neck, and the material shifted as d'Artagnan took hold of his scarf, which meant all three men knew his next move. Athos thought it rather intriguing that d'Artagnan's rather violent, feral, nature was contrasted with the fact he never pulled his weapon as his first response.

"What I'll ask for, you don't want to give," d'Artagnan said as the man looked him up and down. "And the king will certainly take a dim view of taking anything from me." 

The man smirked, the men around him moved to flank him. 

"Don't tell me, you're the King's latest little whore." 

d'Artagnan frowned. "That would imply that I am charging him for the service. Am I meant to be doing that?" He turned to Athos with mock surprise. 

"What occurs between the King and yourself is entirely up to you. Now I suggest we resolve this situation swiftly," Athos told him. 

d'Artagnan shrugged. "Well then, I'm the king's messenger, carrying a message for the Duke of Lorraine, so I suggest it would be something of a mistake to try and take me, and my escort, on." 

"They are your formal escort?" 

"They are indeed," d'Artagnan said. 

"We can take over the duty from here," he said, looking at Athos and then assessing d'Artagnan again. "We can ensure your safety." 

"He goes no where without us," Porthos growled. "Certainly not with you."

"And I suggest it would be unseemly to start brawling now," Aramis said. 

"You have papers then I presume." 

d'Artagnan had indeed, safely tucked away on his person. He pulled out the paper with the King's seal on, which should, from this point on, protect him. However, his concern was the omega female. 

"We can stay to ensure your safety," the man said, handing the papers back to d'Artagnan. 

"Very well, however, you or any of your men go near that omega, I will castrate you."

The room stilled, and the Duke's men looked uncertainly at the Musketeers. Because none of the alphas looked surprised at their omega's words, and gave the impression, they would certainly allow it; and if Porthos' grin was anything to go by he would probably help. 

"I believe our business is temporarily concluded," Athos said. He turned to the lingering omega, her alpha watching nervously. "Bring some food and wine to our room, plus we need some water to wash in." 

She scurried off to do as she was told. Athos tilted his hat at the Duke's soldiers. 

"Gentlemen." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"That was enlightening," Porthos said as they entered their room. It had taken a little longer to negotiate the guards leaving, although none of them doubted that the group would be back to escort them the rest of the way. In that time the maid had brought up everything Athos had asked for. 

"I need to look at those wounds again," Aramis told d'Artagnan. 

"It's only the shoulder one." However, d'Artagnan knew there was no point in trying to stop them. He removed his weapons, and stripped off his tunic and shirt. 

"And the lower one," Aramis added, seeing the smears of blood on the lower part of d'Artagnan's back. 

With a sigh d'Artagnan unfastened his belt and stripped down to his underwear, which he was not removing, Aramis could work around that. The deeper wounds the Duke of Savoy had left him with had taken some time to heal. Aramis had been intensely solicitous in cleaning them up on a daily basis, until he was happy with their healing progress. Only two now remained as a concern. 

Aramis dampened down the cloth and reached up to gently wash the wounds. d'Artagnan closed his eyes and let himself relax. He didn't open his eyes as he felt Porthos move closer to him. He didn't exactly pull d'Artagnan into a hug but he encouraged d'Artagnan to lean against him. Porthos stuck his nose into d'Artagnan's hair. d'Artagnan smirked as Porthos' nose stayed where it was. Once he had discovered d'Artagnan's underlying omega scent he inhaled it as often as he could, although now it was mixed with his cover scent. 

"d'Artagnan I need you to drop..." 

"For heaven's sake," d'Artagnan muttered, almost into Porthos' ear. 

"Come on," he said, stepping back and pulling d'Artagnan towards the bed. He allowed Porthos to pull him with one hand and loosened the laces on his underwear with the other. Porthos straightened up the pillows, and then sat back, pulling d'Artagnan on the bed, and arranging him so he could use the alpha's thigh as a pillow. 

"We'll set up a watch, I'll take first," Athos said. "Porthos, Aramis then d'Artagnan." 

"Why am I always last?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"You are generally awake in the morning," Athos said. "Even when you don't need to be, there is no point in wasting it." 

"We are no doubt getting a heavy escort in the morning," Porthos said. 

"They were waiting for us anyway. We spotted the two scouts well before we entered the town. The Duke knows we would be taking this route," Aramis said as he carefully peeled down the material of d'Artagnan's underwear. 

"This one isn't too bad," he said bathing it gently. None of them were surprised by d'Artagnan's lack of reaction. He turned his head to look at Athos, who had gone to open the wine and pour it out. Holding out his hand he took a glass of Athos and sipped at the wine from his prone position. 

"They are looking better," Athos commented. 

"I know," d'Artagnan said. "I don't know why you were so bothered about me seeing it. I asked Constance by the way." 

"I know, she said," Athos said. "But you were so dismissive of it, why would you want to see it?" 

"The scarring isn't bad. The Duke knew what he was doing," Aramis said. Porthos growled. 

d'Artagnan said nothing. He didn't want to point out it wasn't, by far, the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Chances are they wouldn't ask him, but he didn't even want to go anywhere close to that kind of discussion. If the three alphas had anything to do with it, nothing like that was going to happen again. Certainly not by their hand. 

"Hopefully I won't have to lay eyes on him again." 

"We can guarantee that. If he returns to Paris, you will be somewhere else."

"You're fine," Aramis said, easing the material of d'Artagnan's underwear back up. d'Artagnan huffed and put the wine on the floor by the bed and rolled slightly to arrange his underwear. There was no point getting dressed again, so he settled back down on the bed next to Porthos, again using his leg to rest his head on, which seemed to make the alpha happy. 

"It seemed a little easy," Aramis said. 

"What? Cleaning my back?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"No, it's like those soldiers were waiting for us. Not to deter us. They want to make sure we're coming." 

"It's a good point," Athos said. 

"So what do you think?" d'Artagnan asked. 

No one really commented. They delivered the message, listened to what the Duke of Lorraine had to say.

And d'Artagnan's world shattered.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always think I'm obvious, I'm clearly not. Must use to my advantage more. Plus I accept the end of the last chapter was a shock, so this is better.

On hearing the crash Anne didn’t hesitate to walk to the end of the corridor and stride into d’Artagnan’s room. She wasn’t even aware he had returned to the palace. Although she stopped dead as she looked at the overturned table, scattered ornaments, forlorn looking flowers and rather enraged looking omega now pacing the room, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. 

He spun round and glowered at her, for a moment, then blinked as he realised who was there, and pulled himself together to bow to her, as he always did. Although it looked uncoordinated, as if he couldn’t quite pull himself together. 

“Your Majesty.”

She turned slightly and looked at the two ladies-in-waiting and two guards behind them. 

“Leave us,” she ordered them. 

The two women had no problem in following her orders, quite glad to be out of d’Artagnan’s way. The two guards at least lingered, looking at the furious omega with uncertainty before looking at the Queen again. 

“Your Majesty, I don’t think we…” one hesitantly said. 

Anne took a deep breath. She would not be convinced by anyone in the palace, and probably the whole of France, that despite the sheer fury vibrating off every inch of his being that she was in any danger from d’Artagnan. The only thing she was very sure of in that moment was the fact that he would never hurt her. Whatever was going on in his mind, attacking her was something that would never even flicker as an idle though, never mind become a reality. However, she had observed d’Artagnan enough to know that shouting orders didn’t always work, but she could get this done. 

“I will be perfectly fine,” she told the two men in a reasonable voice. “Now, out.” 

They both looked reluctant, but in the end they obeyed. Anne exhaled a short breath as the door clicked closed and then she turned, crossing the room swiftly. D’Artagnan had sat down on the floor, resting his back against the far side of the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head in his hands. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Queen step around towards him, she eyed the overturned table for a moment and then with well-practiced expertise, lifted her skirts out slightly so she could sit on the floor next to him, performing the gesture with remarkable ease. Then she reached out and extracted one hand from his hair and wrapped it in both her own. 

“What is going on?”

D’Artagnan lifted his head and looked at her. The dark, simmering anger in his eyes didn’t bother her. She hadn’t made him angry, but something had disturbed him deeply. 

“Athos, Porthos and Aramis?” she enquired. Although she knew they must be fine and well, if any of them had been injured, or killed, d’Artagnan would have been with the other two. 

“Fine,” d’Artagnan said, his voice rough, as if he had been screaming. “I hope.” 

“Where are they?” although as she spoke again she dismissed the possibility of them abandoning d’Artagnan. It was certainly not what she would have expected of the three men she knew so well. As she asked the question, his hand tensed, then he exhaled heavily, and relaxed. 

“Things went well with the Duke of Lorraine?” she queried. 

D’Artagnan nodded, “I gave the reply to Treville and… LaBarge,” he choked the name out as if it had caught in his throat. Anne took a sharp breath. She had refused to be ejected from the room during that interview in the court, and then rather wished she had been. But she had steeled herself to listen to d’Artagnan’s candid list of events that had occurred to him since his father had been killed. After her insistence to stay, she then couldn’t leave. 

“They wouldn’t let me come with them to…” 

“I’m not surprised.” 

She had seen the expressions on the men’s face as the story had been revealed. 

And it had been a very painful conversation all round, before they had headed off to apprehend him, as all three alphas had given him a flat refusal, and then a list of highly logical reasons as to why he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, accompany them. 

“You need to deliver the message back to the king. From here, you only have a few hours ride to Paris. Someone needs to tell Treville what is going on. And,”   
Athos had paused to cup d’Artagnan’s face in his hand and lean forward to rest his forehead against d’Artagnan’s. 

“I don’t think any of us would be able to cope with you near him. It will disturb you, it will most certainly disturb us. We can catch him, but he knows you will be a vulnerable point for any alpha with you. From what you have said about this man he will use that to his advantage.” 

The other two had clustered round him, and d’Artagnan, in the midst of the emotional turmoil had calculated the odds of his next decision. If he insisted on going with them, they would prevent it and probably return with him to Paris. Risking losing the chance to catch LaBarge, in favour of dealing with him. And d’Artagnan didn’t doubt he would become their priority. He wanted to catch the man who had killed his father and destroyed the life he had known. 

Plus, he was embroiled in another task, which he did have to complete; he couldn’t argue with that either. And, there was also the niggling fear of looking on the man who had done so much damage to him. D’Artagnan wasn’t sure how he’d actually, in reality, cope. They had given him a perfect way to avoid it. For now. 

“Fine,” he had conceded to them, in a very strained voice. Athos had, rather uncharacteristically, kissed him on the forehead. 

“We will catch him, and he will face the king’s justice.” 

The others had taken advantage of Athos’ behaviour to do the same thing to him, which was as comforting as it was disturbing. He had a chance to face the man who had killed his father, when he was caught. And he didn’t doubt the Musketeer’s ability to do that. 

He was, however, very sure, he didn’t want justice; he wanted revenge. 

"I know," Anne said calmly, which meant he had spoken out loud, but the Queen looked quite unperturbed by his outburst. Instead she held his hand and thought for a moment. 

"You are all quite right, it is best you are not there. If nothing else, your presence would have probably been noted by him. From what you say, he would be wary, and have spies." 

"So, he might know they are coming for him." 

"You have travelled almost back to Paris, so that's a good diversion, he wouldn't follow that far, and if he was, it's a perfect place to circle back and catch on the rearguard. Plus, they are Musketeers, they are the best and they will be fine." 

"Then what?" d'Artagnan asked flatly. 

"Louis will not let this go. This man is a rogue." 

"He was ordered to collect taxes by the Cardinal." 

"And the Cardinal had planned to have him taken into custody, but he disappeared. If they can find him they will bring him in." 

It didn't make things better, for him at least. 

"It's nothing," Anne said, "But, I remember when I was announced as an omega. I was five, and from then I was told that I would be the most sought after woman in Europe. I would have the pick of husbands; of kings. And I didn't pick him, I was betrothed when I was eleven. To Louis. Who I had never met, and I didn't know. But then I still got told I was the most precious thing, and he was lucky to have me. 

"Not because I was clever, or pretty, or nice, but because of my smell. That was all I though an omega was. I was as good as everyone else, I could ride, and shoot and I enjoyed talking about politics and art and any subject, but I just smelt different, and they all thought I was a lesser thing, even though I would be desirable. I met Louis when I was fourteen, he was better but.... I gave up all my claims to my inheritance in Spain to become the Queen of France. I have been a Queen of France longer than I have been a Spanish princess, and I'm still just, what I smell like." 

"It's not nothing," d'Artagnan said. "You are not nothing, and certainly more than a smell. Louis listens to you, and you are kind, and forgiving and... I like you." 

It was the best d'Artagnan could think of. 

"And so do the Musketeers," he added. 

"I know, I think I was just trying to say, it doesn't matter how you feel, it's sometimes finding someone else's perception of you. I'm not just a smell to Louis and the Captain and, even the Cardinal." 

d'Artagnan snorted. 

"Or to you," Anne said, a little more confident in saying that. 

"Of course," d'Artagnan said. 

"Louis will not allow this man to go unpunished. I promise you." 

"What is going on? What happened?" Louis eyed the table, followed by the rest of the court it seemed. d'Artagnan sat up straighter. Anne held up her hand to Louis who took it and, with surprising grace, and the King's help, she stood up; her skirts settling neatly around her. 

"d'Artagnan happened," she said, straightening herself up and making it sound as if omegas appearing in the royal apartment and overturning tables was an entirely expected event. The Queen looked so unruffled, standing protectively over d'Artagnan that the rest of them pouring into the room looked almost silly. Treville stepped forward. Louis stared out of the window. 

"We need to wait for return of Athos, Porthos and Aramis. They will get this man and then we can progress with the case." 

"He is mine to deal with," the Cardinal said. 

"And you have done that so well, Sire..." Treville turned to the king, who continued to stare out of the window. 

"D'Artagnan," Louis asked, sounding distracted. "Have I ever told you, in any sort of way, that I don't like my gardens." 

"No," d'Artagnan said, but he heard the shouts from outside. Louis turned and glared at him. 

"Then please get your infernal demon of a horse out of my shrubbery!"


	12. Chapter Twelve

It was an anxious two day wait. D’Artagnan trained with a few of the other Musketeers, who were clearly aware of what was happening. That did not mean, however, they pulled any punches during training. D’Artagnan hardly noticed that he managed to beat most of them. Treville watched carefully, noting the improvement in d’Artagnan’s technique. He had certainly been a good fighter to start with, and knew a good number of tricks; many of which Porthos had taken delight in honing, but the Musketeers pulled together what d’Artagnan had already developed, into something far more cohesive. 

“Little Feral, eat,” Serge ordered, who seemed to be the only one that d’Artagnan would actually listen to. The Musketeer sparring with d’Artagnan, one of Pierre’s alphas, paused and shrugged. 

“I like eating here,” he told d’Artagnan, which effectively ended the session and d’Artagnan, who was also rather fond of Serge’s food, did as he was told, allowing Serge to pet his hair as he sat down. A few other alphas stirred at the touch, but knew that none of them would get away with such an act even if d’Artagnan’s three alphas were absent. 

Then again, those three also liked eating at the Garrison, so they tolerated it, knowing Serge would go no further, and despite the odd twitch at the beginning, d’Artagnan hadn’t really objected either. D’Artagnan ignored the undercurrent it now caused. There had been the odd advance from other alphas; he could have as many as he wanted, but four seemed enough to him. All four of them could protect him, no one was going to risk annoying the king by trying to take one of his 'amusements' away from him. And the other three made it clear that no one should lay their hands on him. 

Some of the few that had tried, and failed, to get his attention now tried to make up for it by insulting him, or being more than a little aggressive during training, but none of it seemed to make an impression on d’Artagnan. Treville as he surveyed the scene realised that many of the insults delivered, often during the absence of Athos, Porthos and Aramis, hadn’t made it to their ears. D’Artagnan certainly hadn’t passed them on, he had just let them happen. If they got to his alpha's ears, it was not via their omega, who passed everything off without comment. Treville contemplated the thoughts as he watched from his balcony. Serge, seeing him there, poured a bowl of stew for him, heading up the steps. 

d'Artagnan turned and paused eating as one of the men ran into the yard. The Musketeer looked at Treville, then down at d’Artagnan, who got the hint immediately and turned on the bench, putting the chunk of bread he was eating down.

“We’ve seen them, they’re approaching the city, and they have a prisoner.” The man wasn’t entirely clear who he was meant to be addressing. D’Artagnan reacted immediately getting up and running out of the garrison. Treville debated calling him back, and then looked around, wondering if he should send someone to retrieve him. 

“He’ll be fine,” Serge announced seeing the indecision on Treville’s face. “Those three won't let anything happen to him.” 

Knowing the vague direction which they would be travelling d’Artagnan made his way through the streets, speeding up as he heard the sounds of a fight, he pulled his gun and fired the moment he skidded around the corner. 

LaBarge turned, hardly flinching as the bullet grazed across his shoulder. The watching crowd gave a scream and dispersed from the fight. LaBarge flung the Red Guard he was holding away, carelessly discarding him, throwing him across the square without effort. He stared at d'Artagnan, who froze, wide-eyed, his face paling. LaBarge stared at him, his eyes running up and down d'Artagnan, who took an unconscious step back. 

"Well, well, well, little puppy," the man growled. "Haven't you grown up."

d'Artagnan shifted uncomfortably and said nothing, his eyes still assessing the man he had been trapped with for nearly two and a half years, and had only spent a year away from, perhaps a little longer. 

"Do you still yap and bite?" LaBarge asked. "I liked that."

d'Artagnan regained the step back he had taken, but he had already done it, and LaBarge had seen the weakness. d'Artagnan drew his dagger at the same time. 

"Do you think you can stop me with that?" 

The Red Guard now looked a little uncertain but the Musketeers didn't hesitate. They ran forward and three against one was enough to bring the man down. All three of them held him and d'Artagnan looked up in disbelief as the Red Guard advanced on the Musketeers. One of them stalking towards d'Artagnan. 

His face contorted with fury and he pulled his sword, which caused the guard to hesitate. 

"You nearly killed the Captain!" the Red Guard accused. Athos slammed the butt of his dagger against LaBarge's head to drop him and then the rest of the Musketeers released the now prone man and got up to protect d'Artagnan. 

"I saved his damn life!" d'Artagnan snapped and stepped forward. The three alphas kept half an eye on their prisoner as they watched d'Artagnan fight. Athos turned as a few more Musketeers appeared, following d'Artagnan on Treville's orders, and waved at LaBarge. 

"Take this man to the Chatelet. We'll deal with this." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

All four of them blinked in surprise as d’Artagnan dumped the money down on the table in front of Treville, almost challenging him to object all over again. He hadn’t been able to refuse the request, but knew that the Musketeers themselves were hardly flush. It was theirs and the regiment’s responsibility to support d’Artagnan. It was easy to use that loophole to his advantage, and Treville had pointed out, he couldn’t pay for one entry and then refuse others should that information get around the Garrison. 

“Where did you get that?” asked an impressed looking Aramis. Porthos frowned coming to an unflattering conclusion as to how d’Artagnan could have found the money. D’Artagnan hadn’t seemed to mind them both heading off to find a patroness, but he sulked a bit at the fact he couldn’t do the same. Athos wasn’t even bothered about entering. 

“None of your business, it wasn’t what you are thinking,” d’Artagnan said, talking directly to Porthos, who looked ready to object. 

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" Porthos rumbled. 

"It's all over your face," d'Artagnan said.

By the look on d’Artagnan’s face was going to refuse to say any more on the subject. This money wasn’t their concern. The other coin bag secreted on his person was another matter entirely, but he had no intention of bringing that up. At least not until he found the right time to do so. 

"I have every right to enter this contest. If nothing else, this started because of finding and bringing the man who murdered my family to justice. Now it's turned into this bloody contest. I should enter even if it's for no other reason it's a damn insult to my father's memory and what you were supposed to be doing in the first place."

d'Artagnan had listened to the argument between Treville and the Cardinal with ill-concealed fury. Louis' response had tipped him over the edge, and he had taken himself out of the palace, and stayed at the Garrison for one night, until the Musketeers had annoyed him, so he had packed up, told them he was off to Constance's and went and stayed there for a night. They had all had the good sense to leave him alone, although he also didn't think he could impose himself on Constance for too long, so he had returned to the palace. Where Louis had trodden very warily around him.

Anne had no qualms about the best solution to his anger, and his problem. 

“Very well,” Treville now said, since the three alphas, although looking disconcerted, made no objection further to d’Artagnan’s entry to the contest. Neither did Treville particularly. D’Artagnan was skilled, vicious and could hold his own against any of the Red Guard. 

“LaBarge will still face justice, whatever happens with the contest. We start tomorrow,” Treville said. “For now, stay out of trouble.” 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Pierre located them at the tavern, frowning as he saw the three of them. He went straight across the room, waving at a few people who hailed him. And as they realised where he was going two of his alphas sat in the corner started to get up, Pierre waved them down. Athos looked up at him as he stopped by their table. 

“Where’s d’Artagnan?”

“Presumably at the palace.” 

Pierre looked unconvinced. “He might be, but… the Red Guard were winding him up again earlier, and they told him that LaBarge was in the Bastille. He didn’t look like someone who would do nothing with that sort of information. He dealt with the three of them well enough, then went on his way.”

Athos cursed. 

“He had to have known that’s where he was,” Porthos reasoned. 

“There is a different between knowing and having it thrown in your face,” Pierre told him. “He looked like he was on a mission when he walked off.” 

“When was this?” Athos asked, standing up, which meant Aramis and Porthos followed suit. 

“Not long ago, I came to find you straight away.”

Athos nodded, dropping a hand on Pierre’s shoulder as he set off, the other following along behind him. He watched them go, hoping he was wrong, but knowing he was right. 

“What’s going on?” His alphas could clearly stand it no longer, they had got up and gone to Pierre since he was too distracted to pay attention to them. 

“d’Artagnan,” Pierre said, not about to say any more on the subject. One of his alphas growled. They were not his biggest fans, but their experiences on omegas, and opinions, were slightly different. Pierre didn’t bother to comment, he rather liked d’Artagnan, and held the opinion that he had three perfect alphas around him. 

Now he just hoped they were quick enough. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I'll go in and find him, give me ten minutes, if we don't come out." 

"The two of us take on the Bastille double-handed," Aramis asked. 

"Yes." 

Athos eased his way through the shadows and headed into the building. He moved through the shadows, staying hidden as a guard walked past and then swiftly and silently went up the stairs. He heard a voice down the corridor. 

d'Artagnan had frozen as he looked at the man who had dominated his life. He pulled his dagger, and LaBarge grinned. 

"Come on then pretty boy." 

He hadn't done it right, he wasn't ready, and he knew it. It had taken LaBarge no time to put him down on the floor. 

"Now, pretty boy, perhaps I can buy you back off your little friends. What have you given them?" 

d'Artagnan whimpered as the hand pressed into his shoulder, the fingers twisting in the way that d'Artagnan remembered, the pain bringing up memories which froze his responses. He felt himself pulled up and slammed down again. 

"Let's have a check shall we?" 

LaBarge sniffed him up and down, his face pressing into d'Artagnan's backside, his hands expertly working on d'Artagnan's clothing, loosening his trousers. 

"They haven't fucked you, have they. They can't presume you're an innocent. What little stories have you told them?" 

"Get off me, you'll,...

d'Artagnan was shaken and slammed against the bedstead, then he was thrown across the bed. LaBarge clamped on hand down on the back of his neck to pin him, the tips of his fingers reaching round to dig into d'Artagnan's throat. His other hand slid into the waistband of his trousers, pulling d'Artagnan across his lap. 

"You'll scream, I like that. What will I do, other than fuck you and.." 

"You'll get off him, now," Athos said calmly. 

d'Artagnan didn't dare lift his head, and he gave a whimper as he felt LeBarge's fingers slide into him. 

"Shall I get out of him as well," he asked Athos. "I was the first in there you know. I stormed the ramparts, and he was a tight little thing, screaming and crying for his father. Is he that sweet with you?" 

"Get off him," Athos said, his voice staying in the same tone. "I will not give an order a third time, so, make your choice." 

He thrust his fingers in hard before pushing d'Artagnan off his lap, leaving him sprawled on the floor. LaBarge stood up, glaring at Athos, who kept the gun on him. d'Artagnan lay on the floor. 

"Go back to your master," LaBarge ordered. d'Artagnan didn't move for a moment but he reacted as LaBarge lifted his foot and prepared to stamp down. d'Artagnan crawled away, hoisting his trousers up as he felt them slither down. He desperately tried to pull them up as he scrabbled across the floor to reach Athos. The alpha kept the gun trained on the man in front of him, but he held out his other hand, brushing his leather clad fingers across d'Artagnan's hair. He didn't rush him, giving d'Artagnan time to yank his trousers up and also grab the dagger which had fallen to the floor. Athos backed up, keeping d'Artagnan behind him.

He hardly remembered getting out of the Bastille. Athos kept him moving as best he could, d'Artagnan not even noticing what was going on around him. 

"We cannot take him back to the palace," Aramis said. 

"Or the Garrison." 

So, Constance's it was. She made no comment as she allowed the four of them over the threshold as they took d'Artagnan up to the room they used. Constance gathered what they needed and brought it upstairs. Her larder was always stocked because of what might come. And the furious hissing of her husband ceased as Porthos came down the stairs and glared at him. 

"I do not want my omega disturbed," Porthos told him. "I also need a new shirt, to my measurements." 

That ought to shut him up, Porthos thought to himself as he went back upstairs, Constance behind him. 

"Is he all right?" 

"Not at the moment," Aramis said. "I would ask dear lady that we keep our privacy. I'm sure d'Artagnan would appreciate it."

d'Artagnan sat on the bed, staring into space, shivering, his teeth chattering, but he hardly seemed to notice anything around him.

"Aramis?" Athos asked in concern. 

"I need to check he's not injured, but I would suggest the problem is more mental, he's had a shock."

"Right," Athos said reaching up to loosen d'Artagnan's tunic. The omega gave a sharp inhale of breath, his entire body tensing. Aramis knelt down, reaching up to brush his hand through the omega's hair, in a gesture that he hoped would penetrate the shock. 

"It's just us, d'Artagnan," Aramis said. Athos moved closer, holding d'Artagnan steady. 

"d'Artagnan. We need to check you are uninjured," Athos said steadily. "You are safe with us." 

The only response was a random blink. There was no other reaction. Even Aramis looked uncertain how to proceed without spooking d'Artagnan. Porthos gave a growl of irritation, which caused d'Artagnan to jump and whimper. 

"Porthos," Athos warned. The large alpha stood up and moved around the bed to sit behind d'Artagnan. He touched his hair gently and then inhaled the scent from the back of d'Artagnan's neck. d'Artagnan blinked rapidly, but gave no other response. 

"If we stay around him he should be fine, Aramis, you need to strip him so we can check him," Porthos said. Aramis nodded. They had seen d'Artagnan's reactions and knew he was wary of Porthos, after the attempt at physical punishment, which Athos had intervened on. d'Artagnan had remained careful, but he reacted to it. Porthos inhaled again. 

"His scent is not as it was," Porthos noted. 

"Shall we not worry about that, let's check him, although I do not think that he is badly injured." 

"Just hurt," Porthos said, pointing out there was a world of difference. 

"Indeed," Aramis said. "d'Artagnan, I need to undress you and check you are fine." 

Again, all the response they got was a blink of d'Artagnan's eyes, but his body relaxed, and they slowly and cautiously moved around him to do what they needed to do.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

When d’Artagnan roused he found himself curled up against Athos. As he lifted his head from Athos’ chest the alpha’s hand gently stirred his hair. Looking around he glanced over at Porthos snoozing in a chair, feet resting up on the bedstead, arms folded across his chest. 

“I would have thought he’d be where you are,” d’Artagnan said. 

“He was, but he had to move eventually, we took turns,” Athos said. “You were shivering quite violently to begin with.” 

D’Artagnan put his head back down on Athos’ chest, which surprised Athos slightly, he had expected d’Artagnan to scrabble off him the moment he had roused. He ran his fingers through d’Artagnan’s hair again, putting his head down to inhale his scent. The incident seemed to have brought out his raw omega scent, which Athos had to admit was pleasant. It had a similar feel to inhaling fresh air and flowers. It reminded him of summer. 

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan said. “And thank you.” 

“Luckily Pierre spotted the incident with the Red Guards and came to find us, otherwise it might not have had such an immediate outcome. Although I doubt even the Cardinal would have allowed LaBarge to keep you there. You need to think more with your head, and less your heart. I have said that.” 

He had, repeatedly. 

“I can’t be like you,” d’Artagnan said. Athos buried his face into d’Artagnan’s hair, his arms tightening around the omega. 

“Oh, you are like me. More than you know.” 

D’Artagnan blinked, but remained relaxed in Athos’ grip. They stayed silent for a moment until Athos lifted his head from d’Artagnan’s hair. 

“Porthos!” 

The Musketeer stirred but didn’t open his eyes until Athos repeated himself, but then he closed them again. D’Artagnan tucked himself tighter against Athos, if that was at all possible, rather worried about how this next moment would go. He hadn’t exactly defied them, but had done something which they could easily punish him for. 

“The Little Feral’s awake,” Athos added. Which did cause Porthos to rouse fully. He slipped his feet off the bed and shifted from the chair to the bed, one hand reaching out to brush his fingertips across d’Artagnan’s neck, and the bruises that now marred his skin. 

“He all right?” 

“Seems to be,” Athos said. Although both of them eyed him in concern as he didn’t object to being talked about as if he wasn’t there.

“I’m fine,” d’Artagnan said quietly, shifting in the blanket, so it slid off one shoulder. Pothos’ fingers moved down d’Artagnan’s back, brushing over the scars he still had from the Duke of Savoy’s beating. Neither alpha said anything and d’Artagnan braced himself mentally. 

“Aramis should be bringing breakfast,” Athos said, aiming for simple practicality. 

“I heard someone go out, but I don’t know if that was Aramis, Constance, or her supercilious husband.” 

“Porthos,” Athos said in warning. Porthos huffed. “Besides you asked him to make you a new shirt.” 

“He’ll have to catch me to measure me first,” Porthos said. 

“Surely he already has your measurements,” Athos said. d’Artagnan closed his eyes and listened to them talk. 

“Damn, didn’t think of that,” Porthos said. 

“I doubt he’ll take that seriously to be honest.” 

“I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan said again. 

“Not your fault, there is no excuse for Constance’s idiot husband,” Porthos said. d’Artagnan looked at him. 

“I’m sorry for causing so much trouble, I just…” d’Artagnan tailed off. 

“No more than your average day,” Porthos said amiably. “I was quite looking forward to storming the Bastille if Athos didn’t get you out.” 

D’Artagnan frowned, lifting his head slightly. “Were you there…? I…” 

“What do you remember?” Athos asked gently. 

“I remember LaBarge, and then you were there and… it’s a bit blank from then on.” 

“I ordered Porthos and Aramis to wait outside, if I couldn’t extract you, they were to come in after me. You were a little shaken when I took you out.” 

“Shock,” Aramis’ voice announced from the doorway, carrying a tray. “I escorted Madame Bonacieux to the market. We have breakfast.” 

“Is he still here?” Porthos snarled inclining his head downwards. 

“No, thankfully gone out,” Aramis said. “Shall I look over our Little Feral first?” 

“I’m fine,” d’Artagnan said, moving away from Athos a little. He released him, only to transfer him over to Porthos’ custody. The big alpha wrapped his arms around d’Artagnan and sniffed his neck. 

“I will be the judge of that,” Aramis said. “You were rather rattled last night. Even Monsieur Bonacieux had a momentary flash of concern for you. Porthos, put him down!” 

Porthos reluctantly obliged, d’Artagnan shed his blanket, to take him down to his underwear. Aramis looked at the bruises around his throat and on his shoulder, ensuring that the joint was fine. 

“He knows how to hurt without causing damage,” d’Artagnan said. Whatever else happened to him, he was an omega, which made him useful. LaBarge wasn’t going to completely ruin him. Porthos looked furious again. 

“How about your backside?” 

“It’s fine,” d’Artagnan said.

“You were bleeding a little last night.” 

d'Artagnan looked at Aramis warily. Athos took the hint and catching Porthos' eye indicated to the food on the table. Both of them went over to survey the breakfast that Aramis had brought with great interest. It was easy enough for d'Artagnan to take the hint. He unknotted the ties of his underwear, shifted onto his hands and knees, and eased the material down. 

The examination Aramis gave him was short and practical. d'Artagnan got his underwear up, and dressed himself. Once he was on his feet, pulling his shirt over his head, Aramis declared him fine and well; the bruising would fade and there was no serious injury. 

He dressed, he was fed, and the alphas took every opportunity to sniff his scent and gently touch him. But there was nothing in the way of recriminations. 

And for some reason, their understanding left him even more reprimanded than if they had been angry and punished him. 

He was debating that as Athos turned his head and looked out at the city. 

"Treville is making his choice today, we need to get to the Garrison." 

Oddly, when they arrived Pierre sought him out, took his arm, sniffed him and then seemed happy with the result. 

"Are you all right?" 

"Perfectly." d'Artagnan said. 

"Good," said Pierre and then he wandered off to be with his Alphas, four of whom had entered the contest, and he let them cluster around. They glared at d'Artagnan, and he frowned in confusion. 

"Pierre let us know you were off to the Bastille." 

"Fine," d'Artagnan said. 

He didn't need to be popular, for people to like him, and protect him, he thought and then remembered last night, when he had needed protecting. He took a breath, thought about that, then all thoughts were forgotten and the anger took over all over again. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

“The Captain doesn’t look surprised,” Porthos growled. Next to him he sensed d’Artagnan shift in agitation. 

“He knew. And I think I know who he planned to choose,” Athos said. Porthos and Aramis looked at him, who raised his eyebrows. If Treville knew LaBarge was the man their champion would be facing, then he probably would not have put any of them in the firing line. But certainly one of them in particular. d’Artagnan was oblivious to the undercurrent of what the three men were saying, he was staring across the ground at the new Captain of the Red Guard. 

A white hot rage spilled over him, although he held himself very still, despite the impulse to charge onto the field. He watched the whole thing unfold, his eyes staying on the man in question. The three alphas around him felt slightly disconcerted by d’Artagnan’s reaction, as he remained utterly unmoving and hardly blinking, the reaction almost similar to the one after he had been rescued from the Bastille. However, this time, d’Artagnan felt oddly calm. 

He could almost have predicted what happened, as he watched LaBarge’s every move. The man hadn’t changed all that much. Not that d’Artagnan had expected that. As LaBarge lifted his foot, d’Artagnan knew exactly what was about to happen, and he followed the rest of them onto the field, his target very specific. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw one the Red Guard run towards him, and then be diverted as the ex-Captain of the guard pulled the man away, giving d'Artagnan a clear run at LaBarge, who turned to glare at him. It was a stare he knew well. 

"The puppy wants to try biting again." 

d'Artagnan stood as he was, and the king called a halt to proceedings. Other than Porthos leading him back, d'Artagnan hardly registered what was going on. Until his three alphas nodded at Treville. 

"I name d'Artagnan." 

He had heard the words, he knew what ripples ran through the audience, but he felt oddly calm. LaBarge laughed. 

"I've been beating that little puppy for years." 

d'Artagnan smiled viciously. "And I have noticed, you're still limping." 

LaBarge's face contorted with fury. All three of the Musketeers had noticed the slight favouring of the man's right leg. Considering his career and further activities, the odd injury was to be expected. However, the reaction clearly indicated that d'Artagnan was the one that had inflicted it, with what seemed like great satisfaction. The man almost lurched forward, then seemed to compose himself and he readied his weapons. 

"Come on then Feral, let's see how sharp your teeth are." 

d'Artagnan's mind flickered, a memory rising in his mind. It had flitted in and out over the last few days, niggling at the back of his mind, until now, when it fully focused. 

Of the time his father had taken him out to check the fields. There had been warnings of a rogue dog on the loose. It had belonged to a farmer nearby, who had trained the animal to be vicious. When he had passed away, a few weeks previously, his son had gone to kill the beast, and his hesitation to do so meant it had got loose. Tormenting the area and killing stock, even taking a small child. 

d'Artagnan had known village boys and farm hands who had gone to dare each other to bait the dog, while the old farmer was still alive, keeping the beast chained by his barn. d'Artagnan could have gone in the groups to do the same but his father had sternly forbidden him. 

And d'Artagnan had known that voice. His father often gave him instruction on what he should not do, and if he defied, then his punishment might have been broken by his father's jokes, or an indulgent smile and a few more stern words, rather than what he had threatened his son with. But there would be unpleasant chores to deal with, and his father taunting him over his mistake. 

d'Artagnan knew when his father's tone meant that he might be indulged, or at least let off some of the punishment that might follow. 

Then there was the other voice; the uncompromising tone that told him that if he did defy, there would be no indulgence, no compromise, he would be punished, and punished hard. He had pushed that voice once and even his mother's pleading had failed to save him from his father's reprimanding. His father had not crumbled and punished his son. d'Artagnan learnt that voice and never forgot it. 

His father had said that about his neighbour's dog. d'Artagnan was to go nowhere close to the animal. He had listened to the order and obeyed. Staying close to home when his father had told him, because he knew the dog was loose. 

So, when his father had seen the rogue dog on his land, heading for the field with the sheep and young lambs he had ridden there, his son by his side. d'Artagnan remembered the horror he felt as he saw the dog scare the sheep and one young lamb became lost from the herd. 

"Father!" d'Artagnan had been horrified at the idea as he watched the confused lamb calling for it's mother, the dog stalking it easily. It's mother remained in the herd, calling out but too scared to leave the safety of the group. She ran forward and back, unsure what to do, her bleating answered by the confused lamb running around in panic, the dog dodging to keep the lamb isolated. Occasionally it would pause and sniff the air, it's eyes darting around as it honed on it's target. 

"Quiet now son," his father had murmured. "The dog is wary, it knows the risks, and understands the guns, we need to wait; until the need for prey overcomes the sense of danger." 

d'Artagnan lapsed into silence, he remembered watching the scene thinking that his father might let the lamb die, for the sake of killing the dog. He might well have done, he would not wish to lose the young creature, but if he caught the dog, it was worth money, and the risk was acceptable. His father lifted the gun calmly, ready to shoot, d'Artagnan remembered hardly daring to breath and when the dog bared his teeth, his father shot. 

The dog's side exploded in a shower of blood and the body slumped down. 

It now played out in d'Artagnan's mind crystal clear, although at the time it was hardly what he was looking at. He couldn't have remembered it the following day, but years later, it came to his mind in a clear flash of insight. 

The lamb screamed out, lurched forward and stumbled down into a nearby ditch. d'Artagnan had gasped and ran forward, then realised what he had done and recoiled, falling over as he backed up, looking up at his father fearfully. 

Alexandre d'Artagnan had looked down at his son and calmly said. 

"Go and catch the lamb, take it back to it's mother." 

d'Artagnan obeyed immediately, sliding into the ditch, getting muddy as he grabbed hold of the lamb and struggled out to carry the little beast back to his mother. As he neared he put the lamb down and let it run bleating towards her, it's head going down to suckle on the ewe's teat as if it was the most important thing in the world. In return she sniffed the lamb frantically, assuring herself that all was now well. 

d'Artagnan had felt obscurely tired as he went back to his father, covered in mud and his head drooping. His father had gently put an arm around his shoulders to pull him close. 

"All right son, it's all right," Alexandre d'Artagnan said soothingly. 

It was a contrast to the voice d'Artagnan had heard later, as his mother had remonstrated at his father about letting d'Artagnan close to the rogue dog; and then letting him save the lamb, as he had told his mother proudly earlier that evening. His father seemed to let the voice run for a while, then cut her off coldly. 

"Do you think I would let him into the field, if there was any risk to him?" 

d'Artagnan had bit his lip hard at that tone of voice and scurried off to bed. The fact that his father came to his room a moment later meant that he knew d'Artagnan was listening. It was the voice he feared, as he had spoken to his mother and d'Artagnan had heard it. He quivered a little as his father sat on the bed. Then a gentle hand touched his head and his father had kissed him on his cheek. 

"It's all right son, you did very well today." 

d'Artagnan could never work that out. But it had always stayed with him. 

Now he looked at the man, and he wondered if it was LaBarge that reminded him of the rabid dog, or d'Artagnan himself in that role.

"I would have thought you learnt your lesson at the Bastille. I'll enjoy this." 

"I somehow doubt that," d'Artagnan told him. 

"And once I've thrashed you, I'll take you off those three alphas of yours." 

d'Artagnan raised his eyebrows. Thinking again about the dog, and what his father had said. It had learnt to avoid man, and guns. His father had waited until the beast was distracted before attempting to fire, risking his livestock to ensure he could make the shot. Now he knew, LaBarge, would not be aiming to kill him, his eyes were on the prey he wanted, and he had lost focus on the danger. Even d'Artagnan had not been stupid enough to take advantage of the opportunity of killing LaBarge, when the chances had presented themselves, because the rest of his men would have torn him to pieces. 

Survival had been the point at that time. Now it was something else. This man didn't want to kill him. However, d'Artagnan now had no such qualms, his survival did not depend on it. If LaBarge thought he could be removed from these three men then he missed the danger. He thought he was tough. He could hurt and frighten. 

But d'Artagnan was, suddenly, not frightened any more. And he moved to strike. 

Louis watched the fight with ill-concealed concern. His own omega was fighting this fight. And he moved like an expert. 

Even Treville had to admit the cool, clear and concise movements was a combination that impressed him and chilled him to the bone. Athos was in there, as a control to the need to kill. He had honed that to a fine art. Somehow, over the last few months, he had instilled that into d'Artagnan. 

It was hard to notice sometimes, in the young Feral so easy to rouse to anger. 

Treville winced as LaBarge stabbed downwards, and d'Artagnan rolled to evade him. He blinked in surprise at the perfect movement, as if d'Artagnan knew his opponent and they both turned to face each other again, glaring steadily, circling each other, waiting for the next strike. 

Louis had lurched up in his seat, then as he looked at d'Artagnan evade LaBarge, seeing the lithe movement as d'Artagnan, his eyes dark and angry, shifted clear of the threat. Louis couldn't help but feel pride at having such a magnificent looking thing in his bed. No one else had taken him, the Musketeers had left him alone in that sense, because they thought Louis wanted him. 

He did, there was no denying that, but d'Artagnan was not so magnificent in bed, as his movement now would suggest. Louis knew he was pleasing and d'Artagnan made all the correct noises. He was very good, but not what the king wanted. The king wanted what d'Artagnan was now, anger and fire. 

In the end, Louis had that in his wife, because he left d'Artagnan's bed confused and unsatisfied and went to his wife, who as an omega, responded to his alpha needs and behaved herself accordingly. She had looked shocked herself, but as Louis approved, she carried on. 

d'Artagnan now, however, was still arousing, and at least Louis knew, no one would ever know the truth of d'Artagnan's reactions. He ducked another swing and kicked up into the back of LaBarge's knee, then as the man swung his sword, d'Artagnan stepped out of the way and put a perfect strike into his side, slamming his dagger in and leaving it there. LaBarge staggered back, looking down in surprise.

d'Artagnan moved smoothly with his sword, following up to slice the sword into LaBarge's side. 

"I don't think you can take me now," d'Artagnan said. He pulled the sword back and then yanked the dagger out of LaBarge's side. He slumped onto his knees, looking up as if he could hardly believe that d'Artagnan existed. 

Porthos swelled with pride as he watched d'Artagnan step away from LaBarge, rolling the sword away from him, and pulling the dagger clear. 

Louis stood up, feeling a surge of pride at d'Artagnan, and thankful that no one would know any secrets. d'Artagnan was sweet in the sheets but if people thought that the angry, powerful, magnificent thing stood on the fighting ground played within his sheets Louis was happy. d'Artagnan gave nothing out, nothing away to his other alphas and Louis felt pride and sadness as he looked at him. But he knew what he had been manoeuvred into. On more than one side. 

"Your man broke the rules Cardinal. Therefore the prize money is forfeit," he told Richelieu. 

Louis walked onto the training field. The three other alphas had been approaching d'Artagnan carefully. Athos moved the closest, in the formation that they generally adopted, Athos on d'Artagnan's right, Aramis moving to the left and Porthos easing behind him. d'Artagnan's eyes remained on the dead man in front of him, rage still powered through him, heating his entire body. 

It seemed like such an anti-climax. He had waited for this moment, and he found it, almost; pointless. 

Although he could claim he had revenge for what had happened to him; it had been meaningless to LaBarge. But it wasn't for him, facing his enemy had nothing to do with LaBarge. d'Artagnan had just killed him, and something in his mind eased, a tension that had lingered in him relaxed, but it didn't change anything. He had stayed with the Musketeers for this reason, and he supposed if he tried to leave now, they might well let him. But it was more complicated that than and he had nowhere else to go. He could end up in another bad situation. At least this one he had control over. 

There was nothing else he could do, and according to the letter his father had written, which was still safely tucked into his tunic, it was what his father wanted. He had read the letter over and over, until he didn't even need to see it to know what the words said, what he could read in the subtext of his father's word. He knew every inch of that paper, even remembering the slight smudge on one of the words, where his father had clearly dipped the quill into the ink and hadn't entirely shook of the excess before he put the pen back to the paper.

It made him wonder what his usually meticulous father had been thinking, wanting to find a place for his son, somewhere in the world. He could hardly say it wasn't suitable, he had been living the life his father had thought to choose for him for months. Although his father's thoughts had probably not included sleeping with the King. That was an additional complication, although his father would have assumed he would have a sexual relationship with at least one of the Musketeer alphas chosen for him. 

He had actually gone so far as to ask Treville whom he might have chosen. The Captain was, unusually, rather evasive on the answer. He had listed a few of the men that d'Artagnan knew, but not the three he was now linked to. 

"To be honest, I wouldn't have trusted them with you. But ultimately the decision would have been yours; who you wanted round you. There are two of Pierre's alphas who I would never have thought could cope sharing the same omega, but it seems to work. The three you have, given what your father had told me, I would not have considered reliable enough to cope with you, but they seem to be managing." 

Or was d'Artagnan managing them. They liked having him around. Porthos especially, although he knew he reacted badly to some of the things d'Artagnan did. Athos was far more pragmatic over his antics and Aramis just seemed to find most of them amusing. But all of them coped with him in a way that suited him. Any other alpha might have tried to curb his behaviour, which was certainly not what he wanted from anyone now. It would never stop, that reaction was too ingrained to be ignored. 

Things would have been vastly different if he had carried on growing up on the farm, with his father, not trapped with a man who... his mind shut off that train of thought with a snap, and he shifted back to reality with just as much shock as he heard Louis speak. 

"Kneel, d'Artagnan." 

He felt himself tense, surrounding not only by his own alphas but by a crowd of them, all of whom had been staring at him intently. It occurred to him all his thoughts has rushed through his brain in seconds, although they had been brewing in his mind for months. Now he wondered what the hell would happen next. 

Athos was near enough to murmur to him, his voice calm, as it always was when he needed to handle a volatile d'Artagnan. He tightened the grip he had on d'Artagnan's forearm to contain his reaction. 

"He's the king, d'Artagnan." 

That settled him. They were not expecting him to perform sexually in the middle of the field, which was what his addled mind suddenly thought. In fact, d'Artagnan snapped further into the moment as the king held out his hand to Treville and without a word the Captain handed the emblem over, which d'Artagnan presumed might have been made for him a while ago. His mind raced, was it just a trap, just so they wouldn't lose him. However, without even realising he had done it, d'Artagnan went down on one knee. Louis regarded him for a moment, but an uncompromising d'Artagnan was going no further. Louis gave him a slight knowing smirk, as if he entirely understood what was going on in d'Artagnan's head. 

It unsettled the omega for a fraction of a second, but the sight of the Musketeer emblem calmed him. Louis competently settled it on his shoulder, one hand brushing against d'Artagnan's jaw line, in a proprietary fashion, clearly to indicate to the crowd that he was the one that had d'Artagnan in his bed. And while the king had him, no one else would. 

d'Artagnan slowly looked around, as he rose to his feet. 

"Well done," Louis added before sweeping away, giving one last possessive touch. The queen stayed long enough to move closer and kiss him on the cheek, as if she was also staking some kind of claim to him. Then the space was filled by Treville, who looked at the other three. 

"You had best get him away from here," Treville said. "Or more than one alpha may pounce." 

d'Artagnan looked around. 

"We'll control the crowd while you get him away," the now presumably re-instated Red Guard captain announced. As a dozen of his men started to protest he turned on them. 

"If it hadn't been for the Little Feral..." 

As he heard that name again, d'Artagnan realised he was never losing that epitaph ever. 

"...firing that shot, I would have died on the street, by the hands of that man." 

A few turned to look at the corpse. d'Artagnan noticed that none of the Red Guard felt much for their recently deceased Captain. Although in the end a few grooms were sent on to take the body away. Then they looked back at their Captain, who glared at d'Artagnan. 

"This makes us even," he said before stalking off. 

"Fine," d'Artagnan said to the empty air and then the gaps were filled by Musketeers and by unspoken agreement his three alphas swept him away to fill him up with wine.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Louis felt highly disconcerted by the crash. His wife however again just walked towards the racket without a qualm. In her nightclothes. He could see the sway of her body through the gauzy nightdress, her feet bare and hair loose down her back. So, rather entranced, he followed. 

"What have you got against my furniture?" Louis asked as he looked at the chair that had been thrown across the room. d'Artagnan glowered at him, swaying on his feet, his hair falling into his eyes. It was quite clear d'Artagnan was roaring drunk. 

"What's happened?" Anne asked d'Artagnan, ignoring both the aggression and drunkenness. 

"Nothing," he said, as if it was everything. "I've killed the man who murdered my father, and made my life hell. What could be wrong?" 

He sat down, rather abruptly on the floor, leaning back against the cabinet, banging his head against it, before closing his eyes. Anne turned to Louis. 

"Fetch some water." 

"I don't want water, I'd like more wine," he told her. Anne shrugged. 

"Maybe it's for me. Having been rudely woken up," she told him, moving to sit down next to him. d'Artagnan opened his eyes. She looked just as poised, but utterly different with her hair tumbling around her face, she tucked it behind her ears making her look childlike. They said nothing to each other, hearing the sounds from beyond the room as Louis located some water and glasses. 

It was only when he came back into the room the king said. 

"I'm the king, why am I getting water, and wine?" 

"Because I'm your wife, and I asked you," Anne said, from her position on the floor next to d'Artagnan, sounding utterly reasonable. 

"Very well," Louis said. 

"I'm fine," d'Artagnan said. "Just tired." 

"If you're fine, will you stop destroying my palace! Please tell me your confounded horse is not roaming the garden." 

d'Artagnan looked up, unable to resist the smile that surfaced. "I left her in the stable at the Garrison. I walked here." 

"Are you sure that was wise?" Louis asked, which caused d'Artagnan to scowl. He had clearly left his three other alphas in the dark about his method of transport to the palace. Louis wondered where they were, then seeing the look on the omega's face decided not to ask. 

"Come on," Anne said choosing to be oblivious to the scowling. "Let's get you to bed. You'll feel better in the morning." 

"Will I?" d'Artagnan challenged. 

"Well, I'm not allowing you to sit on the floor all night," she announced pulling d'Artagnan up and then competently started to unfasten his clothing. d'Artagnan looked startled. So startled he put up no resistance. Louis poured wine, offering a glass to d'Artagnan.

"No thank you," d'Artagnan said. Louis shrugged and sipped it himself and watched as his wife pulled d'Artagnan out of his tunic. d'Artagnan looked to Louis for help, and taking over as Anne started to unlace his trousers. Louis clearly had no intention of helping so d'Artagnan needed to take charge of himself. 

"Don't look at me, you're the one who came in drunk," Louis said.

"I'm not drunk," d'Artagnan said. He almost took his shirt off but then looked at the queen enquiringly. She looked unmoved. 

"I've seen you in a state of undress before," she told him. "I met you in one." 

He looked to Louis for help again. The king had righted the chair and sat down in it, and was instead watching the whole scene with interest. Rolling his eyes d'Artagnan pulled his shirt off and let his trousers drop. 

"I am not taking off my underwear," he told Anne. 

"Fine," she said turning down the bed sheets. d'Artagnan got the shock of his life as she clambered in next to him. Louis sat up, watching carefully. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Getting into bed." 

"Here?!" Louis looked at d'Artagnan, who just lay back in the bed, and decided he didn't want to bother with anyone. 

"Of course, we can't leave him on his own." 

Louis continued to look startled, then realised he had an open invitation to get into bed with two omegas. With a shrug he crossed the room and clambered in the other side. d'Artagnan shifted slightly, moving into Anne's space, then he moved back as Louis settled. d'Artagnan settled against him and Louis felt his wife's hand on his side as she reached over to hug d'Artagnan. Louis took her hand feeling as if he should make some sort of claim. 

"Should we inform his other alphas?" Louis asked, talking across d'Artagnan to address his wife. One of d'Artagnan's eyes opened, looking mildly malevolent for a moment. He did, Louis knew, have an issue with people talking about him as if he wasn't there. Louis looked back and shrugged. 

Anne answered for him. 

"No, when he's here, he's ours." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

d'Artagnan ran into the Garrison to a scene of chaos. He didn't hesitate to run forward, ducking under the arm of one of the betas in the yard. The beta had pulled his gun, although clearly felt hesitant as firing it into the melee of Musketeers who were trying to restrain Porthos, and extract Pierre from the out of control alpha. 

At least, d'Artagnan knew, he made a good distraction. The moment he came into range Porthos caught his scent, which would be the preferred one. He was Porthos' omega. Pierre just happened to be near him at the time the tonic took full hold. d'Artagnan stayed still as Porthos lunged. Both Athos and Aramis tried to stop him, but as they hadn't noticed d'Artagnan's approach and Porthos evaded them easily, barrelling into d'Artagnan and sending him flying backwards. 

The wind shot out of his lungs as he landed flat on his back. Porthos loomed over him, sniffing at him and scrabbling at his clothing. d'Artagnan lay still, because he was trying to get his breath back, and because he knew a pliant omega was liable to be more calming; until d'Artagnan could get them both somewhere safe, and deal with Porthos properly.

"No, Athos," d'Artagnan kept his voice low but that didn't stop one of Pierre's alphas coming in from the other side, so d'Artagnan had to raise his voice. "No!" 

It put Porthos on alert and he rose up, d'Artagnan tried to deflect the blow to Porthos, and his arm shuddered, dropping as the numbing pain hit. Porthos turned, pulling at him and trying to drag d'Artagnan away, from what he now perceived as a danger, to his omega. Which just made him angrier. 

"No, for heaven's sake," d'Artagnan objected and the well-meaning melee started again. Porthos was overwhelmed by Alphas, which only enraged him as they pulled him away. Athos hauled d'Artagnan clear and helped him get to his feet. 

"Enough!" 

"He's secure, it's fine," Treville said stepping between d'Artagnan and the melee. Athos kept hold of his upper arm, and d'Artagnan, although determined to get past them, knew that talking would get him further than trying to achieve his aim physically. 

"It is not fine you idiot!" d'Artagnan told him. "I had him under control." 

"You can't do that." 

"Of course I can," d'Artagnan announced, "He's one of my bloody alphas, and you've just made him worse."

"He's gone into rut," one of Pierre's alphas said, as he propped his pale looking, rather ruffled, omega up. d'Artagnan had never really seen Pierre anything other than utterly calm and composed. 

"I know that," d'Artagnan said. "I had a run in with the Red Guards who slipped him the tonic that set him off." 

"They drugged him?" 

"Yes, although I doubt they will be doing it again in a hurry," d'Artagnan said sternly. "Now, I need to deal with him." 

"We can handle him," Treville said. 

"I can do better. It's had time to get into his system, without any control. I am the best way to deal with it," d'Artagnan argued. In fact, after months of ambivalently sitting on the fence, trying to give nothing away to anyone, he actually felt as if he wanted to deal with it. The act would certainly tie him to Porthos, even deeper, and could end up with the others expecting sexual favours. Then again, he didn't think Athos, or Aramis, would do that, and they certainly would not object to him helping Porthos. 

He certainly owed them some level of loyalty, and he had been furious with the Red Guards for what they had done, and they certainly knew that now. Several broken bones and two bloody noses later they were in no doubt of that. 

There was an angry roar from inside the Garrison. d'Artagnan rolled his eyes, and flexed his hand, where his forearm had taking a blow. 

"I am perfectly capable of handling him. He is very familiar with my scent, and had no intention of hurting me just now. In fact he tried to protect me from you." 

"You can't know that," Pierre said. 

"You were just the nearest thing when the drug took hold. The moment he smelt me he left you, because I'm the one he's familiar with, and I am the one he wants." 

"You don't have to do this," Athos said. It was the tone of someone who would probably concede that perhaps it was the best option. However, he always asked, phrasing it carefully to allow d'Artagnan room to manoeuvre. 

"I know I don't. I'm doing it anyway." 

"Alphas in rut are unpredictable," Treville said. 

"I know that. This wouldn't be the first time I have dealt with alphas in this condition," d'Artagnan said. "And Porthos will be easy to handle, he knows my scent too well." 

"And the others didn't?" Pierre asked. 

"Not all of them, and not as well as Porthos does. That's why he left you the moment he scented me," d'Artagnan said. "I'm far more attractive to him. Alphas in rut are possessive, in his mind I'm rightly his." 

Pierre looked uncertain. "I'm not sure it's wise. Treville, you can't let him do this. He could be at risk." 

"And how many times have you dealt with a rutting alpha?" d'Artagnan asked. 

Pierre frowned. "Never." There was an unmistakeable trace of smugness in his tone. He had joined the Musketeers as a cadet, and he had gathered his alphas around him. It had kept him well protected. And they had been steady as a result of his presence. 

"A wealth of experience then," d'Artagnan drawled. "I have, and I know what I'm doing, and Porthos I can handle." 

With that he swept past them, following the scent. As he turned into the building he easily knew which way he had been taken. On reaching the doorway, he pulled one alpha out of his way and punched another. The others tensed. 

"I have not gone into a rut. He's been drugged. Now open the door." 

"We..." 

"Open the door," Athos said. In fact he stepped forward and held out his hand to commandeer the key to the door. The other Musketeer handed it over without a word. 

"Aramis is in there," the man said. Athos nodded and unlocked the door, opening it slightly, which allowed d'Artagnan to slip through the gap. Porthos lurched up as he entered. He was chained to the wall, and Aramis had to duck under him, avoiding Porthos' single minded response. But Porthos was oblivious to Aramis, he wanted d'Artagnan. 

"Get out," d'Artagnan told the two Musketeers helping Aramis. They were happy to go and Porthos settled. He clearly didn't see Aramis as a threat, but Porthos growled as Athos' shadow flickered in the doorway and the sensitive alpha caught his scent. 

"Athos, back off," d'Artagnan ordered. 

As Porthos settled a moment later, Athos had obviously done as he was bid. Aramis looked from Porthos to d'Artagnan. 

"He has been a little agitated." 

"Mainly when I was just taken away from him," d'Artagnan said, indicating behind him to hint about the incident that had just happened in the yard.

"Are you...?"

"I am very sure, I know how to handle rutting alphas." 

"You have done so before." 

"Yes, including an alpha that was familiar to me." 

Aramis stared at him. Putting the facts together swiftly. "LaBarge?"

"Yes. It was better to get him through the rut than try and fight my way through the twenty alphas and betas in the camp," d'Artagnan said. Not that the man had been grateful for d'Artagnan's interference. In fact he had been utterly vicious as a result. He probably knew the reason d'Artagnan had done it, and hadn't appreciated his vulnerability at the hands of his omega. 

Still, that man was now dead. Porthos was very much alive, nothing like LaBarge, and d'Artagnan had battled his way into this room, so he might as well do what he seemed to want to do. He started to unbuckle the symbol from his shoulder. The others had been annoying him by trying to wear it in, while d'Artagnan had been quite protective of it. What irritated him was his own reaction, his sensitivity about other people trying to mess with something that was his. He has spent so long trying to get away from most people, the sudden reaction of wanting to belong was confusing. Still, he was certainly drawing lines today. He handed the Musketeer symbol to Athos. 

"Look after it," d'Artagnan warned. 

"It will be safe." 

Then he turned and started to loosen his tunic. Porthos growled, reaching out to try and grab him and looking endearingly confused by the fact he couldn't. The chains had not registered in his consciousness yet. 

"Aramis, you can leave now." 

"Are you sure?" 

d'Artagnan moved closer to Porthos, putting himself into range. Porthos pawed at him, yanking him closer and sniffing at him. d'Artagnan extracted himself, settling Porthos next to him, and continuing to remove his clothing. Porthos tried to help, but only managed to grapple with the material of d'Artagnan's trousers. 

"Behave." 

Porthos snuffled his face into d'Artagnan's groin. 

"You will need to bear in mind, Porthos' reaction when he is back to his normal self," Aramis said. 

"I will deal with that as well. No one is going to tell him I was forced to help him through this." 

"You don't know what he might do. As far as I know Porthos has never suffered a rut. The fact that he has while having his own omega..." 

"Is a ridiculous notion. He was poisoned, the same way I was put into rut. And although physically you don't generally suffer it, Alphas quite often seem to have a mental rut going on when it comes to omegas." 

"You are rare beings," Aramis said. 

"We'd be a lot less rare if alphas knew how to behave, and now, they don't because trying to get hold of one of us becomes such an obsession. Whatever the issues. I need to deal with this one right now."

"We will be right outside," Aramis warned. 

"I don't doubt that," d'Artagnan drawled.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"I don't trust you to trust me," d'Artagnan argued. He nudged the chest of drawers again, and it creaked as the wood shifted, but it was now securely placed in front of the door. No one was getting in until d'Artagnan allowed it. Porthos, shackled to the wall, watched him intently, shifting restlessly. It was possible that somewhere in his consciousness he knew what d'Artagnan was doing. 

"d'Artagnan, we wouldn't have entered. This just puts you at risk," Athos said, through the door. 

"I know what I'm doing," he told Athos. Because he did. Porthos' eyes followed him avidly as d'Artagnan finished unfastening his tunic before loosening his trousers. He undressed efficiently, slinging the clothes over a chair, then he paused, as he considered the problem. He had nothing to lubricate himself with. He looked at Porthos, who had gone very still, watching d'Artagnan intently. 

d'Artagnan mulled the problem for a moment, there was nothing in the room that offered anything in the way of help. With a sigh d'Artagnan went back to the door and shoved the chest slightly askew. Porthos growled, lurching up and pulling the chains taut. 

"Stop that," d'Artagnan ordered. "I can't get through this gap." 

"We can push it open," Treville warned. 

"You won't," Athos said before d'Artagnan could answer. 

"I need lubricant," d'Artagnan said. "I don't want to unleash him without being prepared."

"I thought you said you can control him." 

"Yes, but it's better if I am ready for the first time. He's not entirely in control of himself and letting him just get on with it is the best way to let it happen. To which end I don't think I can let him loose and then go into an explanation of the need to lubricate myself. If you get my point." 

"Yes, we do," Aramis said, handing over a jar of oil. 

"Thank you," d'Artagnan said, grabbing the jar and slamming the door shut, and he shoved the chest of drawers back against the door. Porthos remained still, watching him intently as d'Artagnan coated his fingers with oil and made himself ready. Now he was starting to feel a flicker of nerves and uncertainty. He knew he could handle what was to happen, he had been going through it for years, since his father had been killed. Years on from that, he had probably slept with dozens of alphas, and betas, handed around as if he was nothing. 

He could hardly argue he was that now, even to the alpha that was now unable to want to do anything but fuck him. Porthos was not in control of his reactions, but despite that rutting mind, he recognised d'Artagnan and was as protective and possessive as he normally was. Porthos seemed to feel it more than the other two alphas he was around. It had been noticed by all four of them that Porthos was far more reactive to any situation that d'Artagnan ended up in. 

d'Artagnan often discounted his relationship with Louis. It seemed like such a separate thing to his relationship with the Musketeers. He had two separate lives. One was as he lived at the palace as the king's plaything, and then there was his life as a Musketeer, where the three men treated him decently. Most of the Musketeers did. They were used to omegas around them. 

He was still musing that when he released Porthos, and he ended up face down on the bed. Porthos sniffed at the nape of his neck, moving over him, and causing a ripple of panicked tension to run through d'Artagnan, flowing down his spine and freezing his reactions. The panic spiked through his brain, memories surfacing, threatening to overwhelm him. 

Porthos' hand on his back elicited a whimper, and d'Artagnan drew his breath in, and let it steadily out. Porthos gave a questioning grunt, pausing his exploration, clearly sensing the omega's nerves, reacting to them. He licked the back of d'Artagnan's neck and inhaled his scent. d'Artagnan settled himself, taking a few deep breaths. This situation was not the same as his memories. He was doing this to help Porthos, and it was loyalty, not survival, driving his decision. 

He shifted his hips upwards, to encourage Porthos, and a second later he felt Porthos pushing against him. Rubbing against him as he tried to thrust inside him. d'Artagnan relaxed as he felt Porthos shove into him. He felt his mind drift slightly, moving with his body as he consciously relaxed to allow Porthos inside him. 

It was easier this time, physically and mentally, as Porthos got on with what he needed. Unlike with Louis, d'Artagnan didn't need to pretend. The King was more than aware of the fact that d'Artagnan was acting, and he had retreated as a result, although he hadn't completely vacated d'Artagnan's bed. With Porthos, lost to the rut, d'Artagnan could let him get on with it. 

As sex went, it wasn't unpleasant. With every thrust pleasure rippled up through him. d'Artagnan didn't fight it. Not this time. There had been occasions, when an alpha had caused a physical reaction, and d'Artagnan's mind had fought it, not wanting to feel a shred of pleasure from what was happening to him, wanting to deny the alpha the satisfaction of causing a reaction. Now he didn't worry. If he found Porthos pleasurable, it was accidental, by the sheer movement of the alpha's hips, and d'Artagnan allowing the roll of his own hips. 

Porthos' thrusts increased, and d'Artagnan knew he was close to a climax. d'Artagnan felt his own body react, his stomach tensing, and his lower body flooding with warmth as he felt it. Porthos thrust hard into him and d'Artagnan felt the flood of liquid inside him, then a second later d'Artagnan felt his body follow. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Porthos sniffed at him and moved his hips. 

"Out now," d'Artagnan said, lifting his hips to push Porthos out. Porthos snarled and his hips rubbed against d'Artagnan's backside. 

"Porthos, enough, behave!" d'Artagnan ordered, he slithered up the bed to turn and sit on the pillow to look at Porthos, who looked utterly confused and tried to grappled for d'Artagnan, to get him back into place. 

"Wait, and behave yourself," d'Artagnan said. Porthos paused, sniffing the air and he pulled d'Artagnan towards him. 

"Porthos." d'Artagnan lowered his voice, letting it sound almost like a growl. The alpha growled back and d'Artagnan spread his legs, encouraging Porthos into the next round. 

He quicker he did this, the quicker it was over. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Porthos shifted slowly on the bed. He rolled over, flailing his arm, and smacked against something solid, which grunted in irritation. Opening his eyes he turned, meeting d'Artagnan's gaze, through a curtain of his hair. d'Artagnan then closed his eyes and turned over, preparing to settle down again. 

Unfortunately, Porthos, didn't give him that luxury. He lurched up out of the bed and took the blanket with him. d'Artagnan turned, trying to catch the flailing end of the blanket, which had nothing to do with modesty but the fact that the fire was not burning in the hearth. The weather had turned in the night and Porthos took all the residual warmth d'Artagnan had been enjoying away in one fell swoop. 

"What the...?" Porthos looked around, realising he was in the Garrison, but in a strange situation. 

"You were in rut. The Red Guard drugged you, I dealt with it," d'Artagnan said, and gave up on one source of warmth and went to try and light the fire. There was nothing to light it with. 

"For heaven's sake!" d'Artagnan snapped. He went to the door and shoved the chest of drawers aside. "Can you find something to light this fire and get me a... thanks."

He took the blanket that Athos had wrapped around himself as he stayed on vigil at the door. Quite clearly the naked omega needed it more. Athos followed d'Artagnan into the room. Porthos clamped a hand to his groin, using the blanket to cover himself as Athos entered the room. He glanced at the chest of drawers and then looked at d'Artagnan reproachfully. 

d'Artagnan clambered back onto the bed, wrapped up in the blanket Athos had given him. 

"What did you have to get up for? I was lovely and warm." 

Porthos gaped at him. "We...?" 

"Yes, you were very enthusiastic," d'Artagnan said, rubbing the back of his neck, just where it met his shoulder, at some point in the proceedings Porthos had bitten him. 

"You let me!" 

d'Artagnan glared up at him, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Of course I did." 

"Is it safe?" Aramis asked sticking his head through the door. He slid through the gap after a second's contemplation, holding his medical kit. 

"Everyone fine and well?" 

"Perfectly," d'Artagnan said. "Seriously Porthos, it's fine." 

"It's not fine... you.." 

"I wasn't going to leave you suffering a rut. There was no way to pull you back by trying to calm you." 

"You weren't there when...?" Porthos frowned, clearly trying to put together what happened, and what he remembered. 

"You jumped on Pierre, who happened to be in the vicinity." 

Porthos winced. 

"You didn't hurt him, and the moment d'Artagnan appeared you decided to jump on him instead," Athos said. 

"Which was why I put myself in a jumping on position," d'Artagnan said. "I knew it would work." 

"It did," Aramis agreed, frowning as he looked at the bite mark on d'Artagnan's neck. 

"How long was I...?" Porthos frowned, clearly trying to dredge up memories of what he had done. 

"Yesterday morning," d'Artagnan said. "They fed you a drug in the tavern, and it took a few hours to get through your system. Less to get it out, or are you still..." 

Porthos kept a hand clamped firmly on his groin. "I am fine," he growled. d'Artagnan watched him steadily for a moment, then decided retreating was better. He would have quite happily dealt with any lingering affects Porthos was feeling, but it was clear he was in control of himself, and unhappy about it. Offering any further help was provocative, and d'Artagnan didn't want to upset him. He had been carefully measuring his behaviour towards Porthos for a while, as he was the most reactive of the four he had. Even Louis tempered his emotions better than Porthos, and he pulled tantrums and sulks like a spoilt child. 

Which was what, d'Artagnan knew, the king was on occasion. d'Artagnan however, didn't think he was a bad king. He didn't think, honestly, that the Cardinal was a bad advisor, but he had his own agenda, and d'Artagnan didn't trust him. 

He winced as Aramis started to clean the bite mark. It seemed to be the only thing that d'Artagnan needed dealing with. Athos got the fire going, and d'Artagnan decided there was probably not point in lingering in bed. Instead, as Aramis finished cleaning he got up and gathered up his clothes. 

"What were you doing letting him do this?" Porthos demanded of the other two. d'Artagnan pulled his head clear of his shirt and glowered. Athos sat back on the bed and raised his eyebrows. 

"It was d'Artagnan's choice. You know how stubborn he is." 

"He's here," d'Artagnan pointed out. "But Athos is right. It is my responsibility."

"Is that it?" Porthos asked. d'Artagnan sighed inwardly, there was nothing he could say to make Porthos feel better. He wondered if he had missed something in his dealings with the three of them. Although he noticed that the other two looked rather surprised by Porthos' reaction. 

"I'm guessing it has to be, for now." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

He watched from the shadows as d'Artagnan entered the tavern, and heads turned as he entered. As much as he didn't want to be disturbed, and he had been apathetic to the comings and goings in the tavern; he would rouse if d'Artagnan needed help. But he was not going to help the omega to find him. 

d'Artagnan had an easy plan for that, however. He went straight up to the barmaid, flashed a charming smile, said a few words and her head turned; in response his eyes flickered up to locate Porthos. But his head inclined slightly as the Red Guard moved towards him. 

To a point, d'Artagnan was safe. Doing him too much damage would incur the wrath of the king, who was, after all, one of d'Artagnan's alphas. Even the Red Guard that skirted around d'Artagnan would fall short of doing him serious damage. They just baited the other alphas in his life, and tried to get the omega to react to them. 

Porthos remembered some of what happened. Other parts were hazy but d'Artagnan seemed to invade every part of them. His scent, the feel of his body, his voice and every single movement he made. Porthos felt acutely aware of d'Artagnan although he was on the far side of the tavern, seeing the Red Guard off. Porthos snarled as he saw one of them grab his omega and pull him backwards. d'Artagnan dropped with the pull and slammed back into the guard, elbowing him in the ribs and rolling off him to get to his feet. As they closed in around him Porthos lurched up, kicking his chair away and snarling heavily. 

d'Artagnan put in a few extra punches and kicks, if for no other reason than to kick the Red Guards clear of Porthos' reach. Porthos' furious presence dealt with the ones lingering on the sidelines, and d'Artagnan's retribution was something they wanted to avoid. Porthos was still oblivious to exactly what d'Artagnan had done the previous day when he had learnt what had been done.

The omega slowly backed up towards his alpha, who snarled again as he came close. d'Artagnan didn't move, but as the Red Guard dispersed d'Artagnan looked around and smiled at the barmaid. 

"Wine please," he reiterated to her. 

"I don't want wine," Porthos snapped before turning and heading back to his table. 

"I do," d'Artagnan said. He turned and followed Porthos, and sat down opposite him. Porthos slumped back in his chair. 

"Still feeling some affects?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"I am fine." 

"Of course you are. I wouldn't have let you leave the Garrison if I though you weren't able to control yourself. Porthos, you didn't hurt me, or scare me, or any of the things you are imagining you have done." 

"You didn't want this, did you." 

d'Artagnan blinked. "This what? I did what I did to help you. It wasn't planned by me and I don't intend to make a habit of it, unless we both want it. But I did it for you, and I don't appreciate you wallowing in martyrdom. I get enough of that from Athos, and I haven't even caused it." 

Porthos glowered at him. d'Artagnan brushed his hair back off his face, rubbing his hairline in slight consternation as he looked at Porthos. 

"I know you... wanted something." 

"Not what you wanted," Porthos told him. 

"What did I want?" d'Artagnan asked, desperately trying to work this situation out. "I wasn't aware I wanted anything." 

"That's the point."

d'Artagnan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He looked down at the tabletop for a few seconds before lifting his head again. 

"I would choose not to, only because most of the time it was forced on me. You didn't force anything on me, in fact I had to fight my way through the Garrison to get to you. I think we can safely say I made choices on this; because it was you." 

"You would do it for Athos and Aramis." 

"Of course," d'Artagnan said. "No one else." 

"The king?" 

"Probably, but Louis has extra help. He has Anne." 

Porthos blinked at the clear familiarity with which d'Artagnan spoke. 

"This wasn't about any of them. It was about you," d'Artagnan reached out to take Porthos' wrist. His hand moved to grab d'Artagnan's arm, looking at the bruising. 

"That was Laurent, I remember him moving towards me," Porthos said. 

"I put my arm up to stop him hitting you. I think he quite enjoyed hitting me," d'Artagnan said. 

"He doesn't like you." 

"I don't care if he does, or he doesn't," d'Artagnan said flatly. "He's none of my concern." 

"I could have hurt you." 

"I knew you wouldn't," d'Artagnan said. "Other than very enthusiastic reactions you were quite gentle." 

"Not to your neck." 

d'Artagnan gave an embarrassed grin. There was a bite on one side of his neck, and red marks on the other, where Porthos has latched onto him. 

"That was enthusiasm, not viciousness. There is a world of difference. You are the worse one it could have happened to."

"Really?" 

"You react more to my scent, Athos and Aramis have ways to cope. As long as I was walking and talking sensibly Athos would leave it well alone. Aramis would... be a little bit more concerned but would bury his head against any reactions he thought he should ignore." 

"And what are you saying about me?" Porthos said. 

"When it comes to me, you are the most vulnerable target," d'Artagnan said. "Really, if you had looked hard enough. And..." He tailed off slightly, frowning as he calculated that. 

"None of the Red Guard are clever enough to try and do this, and..." d'Artagnan paused, his mind racing. If the Cardinal was in play, it was not just the acquisition of d'Artagnan that might be a goal. Milady de Winter had been skirting around the edge of d'Artagnan's life for a while, but he had not known immediately who she was. Now he did, and he knew it would be trouble, when Athos learnt the truth. 

Porthos tightening his grip brought d'Artagnan back to reality. 

"What's the matter?" 

"This situation is getting more and more complicated, and the more I try and unravel it, the more complicated it gets. This isn't just the Red Guard having some fun. Someone is trying to put a divide between us. It doesn't matter which way it happens, if the four of us choose sides against each other, that will fracture the whole thing."

d'Artagnan sounded, to Porthos, genuinely worried. Porthos moved his grip from d'Artagnan's arm to his hand. 

"Tell me."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

"NO!! You...!" d'Artagnan started swearing, only pausing as the Queen's voice floated up to them. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Nothing! It's fine!!" d'Artagnan told her, pulling his ankles free of Porthos and Athos' grip. Aramis looked at the scenery, occasionally glancing at them, looking at them as if they were rampant toddlers. 

Things had settled a little, and it seemed easier where there were no distractions, out in the country. They seemed to be back to normal, which meant teasing d'Artagnan, who still did not feel entirely settled. But he had to trust Porthos' reactions, as he had trusted Porthos with the information. The only other person he could talk to was the queen, and he had kept the information from her so far. 

d'Artagnan rolled to his feet and glared at them. "For the last time, watch the uniform!" 

Both Porthos and Athos grinned. 

"It's better now, a little more worn in," Athos said. 

d'Artagnan glared at him. 

"You looked like your mum had dressed you," Porthos added, smirking at the irritation on d'Artagnan's face. 

"I'll tell Constance you said that," d'Artagnan said, since she was the person who had fitted him into the new garments yesterday at the palace.  
Louis had insisted on buying him something, since d'Artagnan's other clothes had been rather battered in the altercation with LaBarge, and subsequent run-ins with the Red Guard. Plus the rest of d'Artagnan's clothes were hand-me-downs from other Musketeers. 

So Louis had discreetly enquired about something new, as d'Artagnan was his responsibility, as much as he was the Musketeers'. Anne had followed that up by talking to d'Artagnan directly, who had then taken the order to Bonacieux. The moment that d'Artagnan had mentioned the King the man's demeanour had changed dramatically. And he had been no better at the palace, leaving fitting d'Artagnan to Constance, with the Queen's ladies in waiting flitting around, and the Queen herself watching intently. Plus, since the fitting occurred in the royal apartments Louis had come to watch. 

The King had swiftly been collared by Bonacieux, while d'Artagnan tolerated the manhandling Constance put him though, although she seemed to get on very well with the Queen. A few of the other servants had watched with amusement. 

As a rule now, they didn't seem to mind d'Artagnan. He certainly, from what he had learnt, behaved better than the previous male omegas Louis had entertained. In contrast to those arrogant omegas, who delighted in the King's attention and the perks, d'Artagnan didn't order anyone about, proved himself perfectly capable of finding the kitchen and servants wash rooms to look after himself, and generally handled the king quite well. In the end, no one minded running the odd errand for him. 

The only person he did annoy was the gardener, when he let Buttercup roam the gardens, and he now generally curbed that habit; keeping her at the Garrison instead. 

So when he realised Louis had suffered enough of Bonacieux bending his ear d'Artagnan caught the eye of the guard at the door, who knew the signal and discreetly went away and then came back a few minutes later to tell the king that Captain Treville had arrived and needed to speak to him. That gave Louis the excuse to disappear, leaving d'Artagnan to be concentrated on, and manhandled. Which he managed with amenable grace. D'Artagnan grinned as he remembered it from the day before. 

Porthos frowned in confusion. "What has Constance got to do with it?" 

"Constance dressed me, yesterday." 

d'Artagnan straightened up his clothing and tightened his grip on his sword, waiting for the pair to start again. Despite the teasing, it was very clear that d'Artagnan could fend them both off. Aramis watched for a moment before going back to cleaning his pistol. Below them they heard the sounds as the Queen entered the water.

"Shall we?" d'Artagnan asked. The two alphas looked at each other and grinned, before both of them darted towards him, and d'Artagnan was ready. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

d'Artagnan was fairly certain that the Queen's maids didn't dislike him. But there were often disapproving of him, and baffled by the Queen's ongoing behaviour towards him. Which was why he and Anne were sat on a fallen log behind her tent, while the maids fussed inside the tent. Staying out of their way was the only moments the Queen seemed to get to relax. 

"Is everything fine, between you all?" Anne asked. "You seem to be getting on." 

"Things have settled down, but keeping secrets is not going to last." 

"Do you have to keep secrets?" she asked him. d'Artagnan pulled a face. Porthos had calmed down, but he was still possessive of d'Artagnan. The other two had learnt to step back slightly and let it run it's course. d'Artagnan felt oddly assured by the constant concern. But Porthos knew they needed to talk, he had suggested waiting until they were away, guarding the Queen. It needed to happen over the next few days. 

"For now. It's not going to last. I was hoping to talk to..." 

He paused as a shot rang through the air. d'Artagnan looked around, staring up in irritation at the ledge above where his three alphas were discreetly lingering. 

"Aramis!" he heard Athos reproach. 

"What's going on?" Anne asked, taking d'Artagnan's arm. d'Artagnan however was scanning the forest. And he pulled Anne towards the back of the tent, putting her against the fabric. 

"Stay there," d'Artagnan hissed. 

"That wasn't me," Aramis announced. 

d'Artagnan darted around the side of the tent to the front, running forward as he saw the woman's body on the path. The three alphas were scrabbling down the slope. 

"It's not the Queen," d'Artagnan told them as they rushed towards the body. d'Artagnan backed up and went to Anne, keeping her hidden, using his body to shield her, drawing her round the right side of the tent, which was the most protected. He kept her in his arms while he let the other three look around, but he located the men on the far side of the lake at the same time. 

"We need to get the Queen out of here," Athos announced. Another gunshot rang through the air. d'Artagnan tightened his grip on Anne, letting her huddle against his chest. 

"Get the horses!" Athos ordered 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"You need to wait a moment, or they will burn," d'Artagnan told her. Anne listened avidly, following d'Artagnan's instructions carefully as he taught her to cook. The Musketeers watched the two omegas with interest, their heads close together, as d'Artagnan instructed the Queen. 

So far he had taught her how to gut fish, stack the firewood Porthos had collected into a decent fire, and now he had moved onto cooking. The three alphas had shied away from her offers to help, but d'Artagnan had put her to work without a qualm, although he had refused her idea of going to collect wood. Instead he had started on teaching her to gut fish. 

She had worked carefully, a little tentatively at first but d'Artagnan's instruction meant she was working competently within a short while. The alphas left them to it, Athos thinking that at least it distracted the Queen from their predicament. Aramis watched thinking that this was not the first time that d'Artagnan had been instructing the Queen on how to do something and he wondered what else he could have possibly given lessons on. Porthos just felt alternate stabs of desire and worry for d'Artagnan. At least the difficult conversation with Athos had been put on hold, as they couldn't be sure how their lead alpha could react, and they needed to broach the subject carefully. There was a sliver of relief in the big alphas mind that it would have to wait, and a further thought had occurred to him earlier in the day to bring Aramis on side first, before tackling Athos. 

None of that was relevant now. They all needed to keep the Queen safe. 

"This is ready," d'Artagnan said. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I cannot believe you...!" Athos hissed at him. "How often have you shared the Queen's bed!"

"Regularly," d'Artagnan said. "Louis is there; but this time, she is used to my presence, and she felt better." 

"You didn't..?"

"Athos, for heavens sake, what do you take me for?! Of course not, she is the Queen of France, I am Louis' plaything; our paths kind of cross." 

"And teaching her to shoot?" 

"She learnt to shoot as a child, just when she became a Queen she became too delicate for that. I also taught her to use a sword, and a dagger at close quarters." 

"Does the king know?"

"Probably not," d'Artagnan confessed. 

"That's a false confidence, she cannot defend herself." 

"Anne isn't a fool. She knows that is the last defence, if one of us is not standing in front of her, then she needs to be able to use everything she can." 

"She will never be at that point," Athos said, in a tone that seemed to indicate that if he said it, he could make it true. 

"You don't know that," d'Artagnan said. "We could both die before Porthos and Aramis gets back." 

"Shall we think little more positive than that. The Mother Superior is praying for our souls." 

"That doesn't save us here and now," d'Artagnan said. "What do you think they are doing now?"

"Planning by the look of it," Athos said, returning to practicalities. "All we need to do is hold them off until the others can get here." 

d'Artagnan hoisted himself up on a stool and peered down. "I think they're tunnelling." 

"I hope you're wrong," Athos said, with the slight suspicion that d'Artagnan was regrettably right. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Louis?" d'Artagnan wandered into the king's bedroom. A few candles were still burning, but there was more shadow than light, and it took him a moment to find the King, curled up on the window seat. As he turned his head, his eyes glittered harshly in the light, then he looked away from d'Artagnan again, staring back out of the window. 

"Buttercup is in the stable," d'Artagnan assured him. Louis snorted, his forehead clunking against the glass as he leant forward. d'Artagnan had decided to leave the Garrison, and the conversation he still had to have; and deal with the current aftermath. The Queen was resting, and seemed none the worse for what had happened, as if her utter faith in the Musketeers had been confirmed, and she hadn't worried that much for her safety. Louis, however, had seen far more upset by the whole affair. 

"I'd let your devil of a horse destroy the entire garden if I could take it all back." 

"What back? What's the matter? We kept her safe." 

"You did," Louis confirmed. "I caused this. I wished it, and it happened." 

"What do you mean?" d'Artagnan shed his leathers, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

"I said it. I said it. That I wanted her to..." he tailed off and turned his gaze on d'Artagnan, who felt a shiver run down his spine. 

"That man, Count....; it's as if he read my mind. Did he know? Am I being punished?" 

"Louis, for what?" d'Artagnan said moving closer and sitting opposite Louis on the window seat. He reached out and took the King's hand. It was cold. d'Artagnan frowned, realising the King was sat in nothing but his nightgown and the fire had burned down to dull embers. Detaching his hand d'Artagnan went and pulled the top blanket off the bed and brought it back to the king, wrapping it around his shoulders, and tucking it around him. And d'Artagnan sat back down, closer to the king. 

"What happened?" 

"I only just said, I didn't mean it. About marrying an omega, and Charlotte seemed so different. She's a beta, she loves hunting.." 

d'Artagnan's jaw tensed. It was not Anne's favourite thing. The one part of hunting she had enjoyed, was riding, however that seemed a pleasure that she couldn't have again. And nobody it appeared, bothered to ask her. 

"And I just, I only spoke it private." 

"In private?" d'Artagnan asked suspiciously. That was not the same as being alone, and just thinking something. Talking about it, meant the king was talking to someone, and his deepest desires would only be open to one person. He started to feel a few pieces slot into place, rather than being juggled about in an attempt to put them together. 

"And I really meant it, for a moment, but not really. I wouldn't want anyone to hurt her." 

He looked directly at d'Artagnan, who didn't doubt that the King wouldn't want to see Anne hurt, but equally, d'Artagnan could believe that he had vented. It was a tetchy subject, Anne going to bathe in the waters, as she did every year. d'Artagnan now knew the story of the pregnancy six years ago. He could understand why the fact she had not got pregnant again made people anxious, but he knew Louis cared for her. d'Artagnan had seen it first hand, but he also knew that he could be equally careless when it came to thinking about her feelings. If nothing else the king paraded a string of male omegas in front of her. d'Artagnan got the feeling that the King's advisors would much prefer him to have a mistress, who at least, could end up pregnant, thereby solving the king's problem. 

d'Artagnan sighed as Louis started to weep, and he took the king in his arms, and he stared out into the darkness, trying to see beyond his own reflection. Not that there was anything to look at, there were some vague shapes in the garden and nothing else. 

"Louis, perhaps you should go to bed. You have had just a bad time as Anne." 

The King tightened his grip, preventing d'Artagnan from extracting himself, which led d'Artagnan to conclude that there was only one way that he was getting the king into bed was to join him. Determinedly d'Artagnan got the king on his feet and walked him to the bed. Louis clung to him. 

"I'm not going to leave you," d'Artagnan said. "But you need to get into bed before you freeze. Let me get the fire going again." 

It made Louis a fraction more co-operative, although not by much. d'Artagnan managed to get him into the bed and then he went to deal with the fire. It glowed sullenly for the moment, reflecting the mood of the king until d'Artagnan managed to coax a few flames out of the embers and after adding some more wood the fire came to life. 

Having done that he stood up to shed the rest of his clothes, not meeting the king's gaze as he did so, although he knew Louis was staring at him intently. d'Artagnan tried to avoid looking him in the eye on those occasions. He got the sense that the king knew his feelings on the subject of his sex life. No doubt Louis had realised that the other alphas were not sleeping with him regularly. He knew about Porthos' heat, and the fact that d'Artagnan had dealt with it. 

He slipped into the bed, pulling the covers about so they were both snuggled underneath the sheets. Louis curled up against him, wanting further reassurance. d'Artagnan wrapped his arms around him, letting the king settle down, and murmuring in a low tone lulled the king to sleep. 

Which gave d'Artagnan thinking time. He ran over what Louis had said to him. He had spoken and spoken to someone. d'Artagnan didn't think that Richelieu held any malice towards Anne, but she was not producing an heir, and any hint by Louis might be taken the wrong would. But would the Cardinal be that foolish, and so foolhardy to go up against the Musketeers with her. 

And then there was the woman. Aramis had sensed her, but could not put any name to her. However, d'Artagnan could. If she was an agent of the Cardinal, he knew who is was. Athos' ghost, his wife, and the damaging, sharp edge that could slide between them, and cause a division between them all. 

It needed dealing with. d'Artagnan had to work out where his loyalties lay.

With himself alone, or did he now need to switch sides.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

"And just when were you planning to tell me?" Athos drawled, pinning d'Artagnan to the wall of Treville's office, mainly with his eyes, but he stood half a step away from the omega, almost daring him to try and move away. Porthos looked ready to intervene, but Aramis, realising this entire confrontation was probably best to happen as swiftly as possible took his arm, giving a slight shake of his head. 

Treville watching from behind his desk thought the same as Aramis. d'Artagnan and Athos needed to have this confrontation. In fact Treville thought might have been better if they had started privately, without any witnesses. Although he could hardly have unknotted the three alphas from their omega. Treville decided he was probably best to let this run, and hope that Aramis could contain Porthos. And if all else failed, Treville could try and contain the pair of them. 

"I was going to, I thought to, but... it's a bit complicated." 

"Telling me that my wife is still alive..." 

"You knew that," d'Artagnan accused. "Although at the time you said she was a ghost." 

Athos glared at him. d'Artagnan didn't dare move, he hardly dared to breath. Of the four alphas he had Athos was the worst of them. Louis was easy to handle. Porthos the same, although he remained over-protective of him. Aramis was malleable enough. Athos, however, was another prospect entirely. There was always something intangible about him. He hardly ever talked about himself. His past clearly bothered him, but any attempts by d'Artagnan to explore he feelings were blocked. 

And he was frustrating for his alphas to try and work out. He seemed often distant from them, but he was certainly loyal. At that moment, d'Artagnan didn't feel loyal at all. He hadn't exactly lied, but something about evading this truth rankled his conscience, a facet of himself he had forgotten he had. Until he had met the Musketeers. 

"Anyway, until it seemed relevant, it seemed best to keep it from you," d'Artagnan added, doing himself no favours if the darkening of Athos' eyes was anything to go by. 

"And now it's relevant?" 

"It probably always was," d'Artagnan said. "But it does seem a difficult subject to bring up, when someone refuses to talk about it." 

Athos eased closer to d'Artagnan, who pressed back against the wall. The stirring beyond Athos was likely to be Porthos. 

"Leave them," Treville's voice announced somewhere in the distance. Porthos gave a growl. d'Artagnan didn't dare look away from Athos to see what was going on. Athos' alpha scent was making his head reel. He didn't often express by his scent, but Athos was clearly unaware of what he was doing at this moment. Which probably indicated how furious he was. 

It was slightly overwhelming. d'Artagnan knew the strength of it, when he had been in the field with them, during a fight. Athos' scent had always caused him to turn. He had known when the alpha was in danger, he had sensed the scent when he had passed back through Le Fere, and there had been something strange about it. Which was when d'Artagnan had followed the scent to the fire. And he had travelled back with Athos without saying a word. The only consequence of it had been making Porthos angry by trying to escape them, and Athos had intervened on the impending punishment. d'Artagnan had wondered why. He had never really found out if it was an unspoken thank-you, or he merely didn't want Porthos taking his frustration out on d'Artagnan. 

"Since you never mentioned it, how do you know I don't talk about it?" Athos asked. 

"Because you don't. It's the same vibe that I give off." 

"Is it?" 

"Yes. I don't exactly want to talk about my past either. None of it's very good," d'Artagnan said. "Well, the early bit is fine but some of the other stuff, not so." 

Athos' scent were disturbing his thoughts. It had never hit him like this. Most of d'Artagnan's senses were struggling to handle this situation. He did not like being penned in, even by someone he trusted as much at Athos. At that second Athos seemed to sense that he was having a rather adverse affect on his omega, and he stepped back. 

"You should have told me," Athos snarled. 

d'Artagnan exhaled heavily and slid down the wall, sitting on his backside in a rather addled heap. Athos backed up further, and Porthos stepped in. d'Artagnan couldn't be bothered to try and fend off the hand in his hair, and he rested his head against Porthos' leg. Any mild physical contact set Porthos into protective mode and he watched Athos warily. Aramis frowned as he watched the interaction. 

"Are you all right?" he asked as d'Artagnan's head lifted. 

"Yes." 

Porthos looked unconvinced and d'Artagnan straightened up, trying to look less affected. 

"So, does anyone care to tell me exactly what I have missed?" Treville asked. Athos turned to him, but it was d'Artagnan who started talking, filling Treville on the appearance of Athos's wife, and the fire, and her further interventions in d'Artagnan's life. 

"So you assumed she was part of the Cardinal's plan to poach you?" Treville asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly. One thing that hadn't been dented by his life experiences was d'Artagnan's ego. Treville kept that thought to himself and waited. 

"It seemed so. She even paid for my entry to the competition with the Red Guard, not that I needed her to, the Queen gave me the money for that." 

"So what did you do with MiLady's money?" Aramis asked. 

"I still have it. I left it in the palace." 

"You didn't return it." 

"I didn't want to use it, but didn't want to put her off either. She clearly had something to do with the conspiracy around the attack on the Queen, although the King didn't intend for it to happen. They are using the Count as a scapegoat to cover up what they did."

"The King?" Treville asked, straightening up. 

d'Artagnan sighed. "I stayed with Louis the night after we returned the Queen. He said he didn't mean what he said, and thought. Which was that Charlotte would make a better wife, a she is a beta. She would be able to produce children, and the Queen never has. If he spoke, he wasn't alone, and there is probably only one person he would say that to. Then of course, once the attack happened, Louis made his real feelings for Anne clear, and the Cardinal would need to backtrack, and find a way to ensure the whole thing was not linked to him. 

"Aramis said he thought he saw a woman." 

"Yes, and there was a scent." 

"My wife's," Athos said. "She is working for the Cardinal." 

"So, how do we proceed now?" Treville asked. "We need to expose this conspiracy, somehow." 

"I believe we may have started the best way of dealing with this. We've clearly made it look as if there is tension between us," Athos said. 

"Because there is," Porthos growled. d'Artagnan started to lever himself up. Porthos took his arm and eased him onto his feet. He rested back against the wall, still trying to settle his wits, and he felt a little warm. He hoped he hadn't started a heat. Surrounded by his alphas that shouldn't happen, but he wasn't as physical with them than he would normally be. He could feel sweat starting to prickle on his forehead. 

Athos frowned as he watched him. Porthos tensed, watching warily as Athos stepped back towards d'Artagnan. 

"Are you all right?" 

"Your scent was a little overwhelming then." 

Athos eased back towards him, d'Artagnan stayed where he was, watching warily. Reaching up a hand Athos gripped the back of d'Artagnan's neck and pulled him closer. d'Artagnan rested his forehead against Athos'. He sensed Aramis moving closer, so all three of them clustered around. Treville watched them for a moment. 

"You should have told me, all of you should." 

"I didn't quite know," Aramis said. 

"I did, but it seemed dangerous to bring it up until we needed it," Porthos said. 

"This takes us up against the Cardinal," d'Artagnan said. 

"If there is any risk to him, he will cut her loose without a thought," Athos said. 

"True, do you think we could play it like that?" Aramis said. 

"He's too deeply involved in this plot. He tried to kill Anne." 

"By Louis' instigation by the sound of it," Aramis added. 

"The king would never accept that defence. And Richelieu wouldn't want the king to be too careful around him. He can't let him know that was the reason. Louis would never trust him again." 

"We could make use of that," Athos said. "So, how do we play this?" 

"It has to be me," d'Artagnan said. "I'm the Feral." 

"It's simple enough to believe that Porthos and Aramis would defend you against me," Athos said. 

"But the Cardinal's men don't want you." 

"Does Athos' wife?" Aramis asked. 

d'Artagnan tensed. "There has always been an open invitation."

Athos said nothing, although his hand tightened on d'Artagnan's neck. d'Artagnan got the feeling, that whatever Athos thought of his wife, and d'Artagnan himself, his jealousy lay with the idea of sharing d'Artagnan. With his trusted friends, and the king, that was all fine. But with his wife, that may well be an intolerable factor. 

"You will need to be careful. She will kill you if she feels she has to. Above and beyond working for the Cardinal will be her own interests." 

"What are they in this?" Porthos said. 

"Revenge." 

"Against you?" Aramis asked. 

"Who else?" 

"If she has been chasing our little Feral, and failing, she may not be best disposed towards him either." 

"I know that. You will need to be wary," Athos said. 

"But I have to trust her, I have to make her trust me." 

"How do we do that?" Porthos asked. d'Artagnan felt very aware of the three of them around him, but he kept his eyes on Athos as he answered. 

"I have to kill you." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"How well that worked," Aramis said as he examined d'Artagnan's side. He kept quiet as Aramis prodded the bullet wound. As it was they were forced to meet in secret. And they were able to thanks to Constance. No one was happy to put her at risk, but her house was the safest place. She was only known around the Musketeers, and had so far stayed out of the situation. They had taken no chances however, sneaking in her back door, each of them alone. Athos had holed up there after his 'death', so she was protected by his presence. 

As he heard Aramis' tone he move closer to look at d'Artagnan's wound, reaching out to twine his fingers into d'Artagnan's hair. d'Artagnan winced as Aramis examined the wound. 

"You were supposed to shoot me in the arm," d'Artagnan pointed out to Athos. 

"Sorry," he said. "However, it was not easy to time, and at least I could make it minimal." 

"On the bone," d'Artagnan said. 

"I would not wish to hurt you. However, much you often disbelieve such a notion." 

"I don't disbelieve you," d'Artagnan said. Porthos turned from watching the view to watch the interaction in the room. For once he was holding back, letting the scene play out. Constance had taken the hint and left the Musketeers to talk. 

"And now we need to snare the Cardinal," Porthos said. 

"That is easy," d'Artagnan said. "However feral I am, I am still an omega. And I will be wanting protection from the Musketeers." 

"They are doing a very good job making a mess of Paris," Aramis commented. "We've run a few interesting encounters with the Red Guard while hunting for you. It appears to be doing the trick, you need to get yourself to the Cardinal. Is MiLady believing it." 

"Yes. I told you killing you was a good idea," d'Artagnan said to Athos. 

"It's very peaceful," Athos admitted. "Although I don't think Constance agrees with that." 

"What have you been doing to annoy her?" Porthos asked. 

"We do need to reimburse her for the wine." 

"Do you need some more bringing in?" Porthos asked with a grin. 

"Not if you are about to shoot me again at any point soon," d'Artagnan said crossly. "I can get to the Cardinal, but we need to keep an eye on MiLady as well. She will try something as a distraction to get out of this situation."

"True, so we need to hold her. Is she expecting you back?"

"Possibly," d'Artagnan said looking at little confused at the question Aramis posed. He looked to Athos for an explanation who shrugged. Aramis glanced to Porthos. 

"I'm thinking, it might be wise for you to stay here, at least tonight, and find her in the morning. You need to go to the Cardinal for protection, so we need to give him a damn good reason." 

"If you plan to go anywhere near Anne I suggest to exercise extreme caution," Athos advised the other two alphas. 

"I did think a rather clustered approach might dissuade her from any murderous responses. A few Musketeers battering down her door may unnerve her, and mean when d'Artagnan returns she could be persuaded to take him directly to the Cardinal, with some pertinent information," Aramis said. 

"What about Constance, her husband is away?" 

"We'll be here," d'Artagnan told Athos. "If anyone comes here then we can deal with them." 

"That might be slightly fatal for the person in question," Athos said. 

"Whoever it is probably deserves it then," Porthos commented. 

"We need to maybe rattle a few cages. The Musketeers are on the hunt for you, so I think are the Red Guard. The moment you are seen by them they will take you. What we need them to do is drag you to the Cardinal, and we can do that if we have leverage." 

"Such as?" Athos asked Aramis. 

"Proof that the Cardinal is behind the plot. We can let that slip to MiLady, which means it will get to the Cardinal, and he will pick you up." 

"He will. We'll pick our moment to unleash you," Aramis said. "You need to be taken convincingly but without harm, hence the leverage. If we let it be known we want you intact, and alive, to deal with you as we see fit, it protects you. Don't be nice about it, but you have to let it happen." 

"I don't like putting him in danger," Athos said. 

"None of us like it," Porthos growled his hand twining into d'Artagnan's hair, playing with the strands. d'Artagnan pressed his head into the touch, more to comfort Porthos than needing it himself. He could calculate most alpha responses, so allowing this scenario to play out he knew how they would react, he had watched all of them carefully from the moment he had been stuck in this situation. The fact that he was staying stuck was down to him, his choice, and there was very little else he could seem to do. 

Now he had to hope that he had read every other alpha right as well. Or if not he was in trouble. 

"Let me and Porthos do some work now. We'll send word to you went to unleash yourself, then make sure you get to the Cardinal. We need you to draw him in and bring him to where we need him. Once Treville has heard what the Cardinal has to say, he's finished." 

d'Artagnan said nothing. He wasn't going to tell the others that he had a further plan in mind. 

He'd face the consequence of that on a later day.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

"I'm sorry I lied." 

Athos lifted his head slightly. "As you pointed out, you did not exactly lie. And your reasoning was fairly sound." 

"I know, but... I wish I hadn't." 

Athos turned to look at d'Artagnan, who had got up from the bed and walked over to Athos, sitting down on the floor by his stool. Athos regarded him with some surprise, to the point he didn't stop d'Artagnan's actions. Although he did, automatically, put a hand to d'Artagnan's hair. All three alphas had decided that the action was suitable enough as an affectionate gesture, as despite his behaviour sometimes, it seemed to be something d'Artagnan would accept. 

"Is your wound all right?" Athos asked as d'Artagnan shifted to get comfortable, and his eyes narrowed fractionally. 

"Yes, it is just a deep scratch. I think I moved, not you aiming wrong." 

"You had better tell the rest of the Musketeers that, it will restore my reputation." 

d'Artagnan smiled. It was, Athos thought, as he watched it, a rare sight, a genuine, bright smile from his omega. He relaxed further and rested his head against Athos' leg. Athos twined his fingers into d'Artagnan's hair and waited a moment. 

"What is on your mind?" Athos asked. He rather wanted to get up and retrieve the wine that Constance had left on the table, with the food she had also brought back. She had also reported seeing the Red Guard patrolling around the market. So on her travels she also went to the Garrison on the pretence of handing an invoice to Treville, and had delivered a verbal message at the same time. The Musketeers were all ready, and two discreetly posted themselves around Constance, if she was at the house or otherwise. 

"I've never cared about anyone before." 

"Never?" Athos asked. 

d'Artagnan lifted his head. "Well, not since, my father. My mother died when I was twelve, then it was just me and my father. There were others on the farm, but I had no other familial alphas. There were the farmhands, and they protected me but..." 

"But not unconditionally." 

"It wasn't terrible. I liked them, and they liked me. I knew it might be rough, if I was ever anywhere else. A few of them died when LaBarge took me from my home. They tried to stop him." 

"Then there was just him." 

d'Artagnan gave a humourless laugh. "I wouldn't say just him. But I take your point. Then I got away, and I couldn't stay still for long and then... I was caught for a hunt, since I proved Feral. It was the easiest way to make money off me." 

"That went well for them," Athos mused. "Then there was us." 

Which was where d'Artagnan's short tale was leading. Athos understood the lack of desire to talk about certain things. 

"Yes. I never thought that there would be anyone to owe loyalty to." 

"And you think you do?" 

"I think so," d'Artagnan said, slightly confused by Athos' tone. 

"You don't need to owe it. You shouldn't owe anything." 

"Slightly wrong words for what I'm saying then," d'Artagnan said. 

"You mean you..." Athos paused. "I see what you mean. However, you want to be loyal to us." 

"Yes, and I don't think I have been." 

"We rather think you have," Athos said. "Which means it all just comes down to perception." 

"And I don't want to," d'Artagnan told him bluntly. His emotions had been so cut off from the reality of his life, it was hard to put it all back together again. And the Musketeers, the King and Queen and everyone else recently had made that all so hard. 

"I understand that," Athos said. "You can't trust that it's real. You don't even want to give it, and you have held it back for so long you don't even know what you are doing." 

"Something like that maybe." 

"You would like all alphas to be like your father, and they are not. And you also cannot trust that an alpha like him can survive against others. It is a little more in depth than that, but that makes for quite a cohesive statement of facts." 

"Yes."

"And yes; Porthos, Aramis and I, do exactly that?" 

d'Artagnan exhaled a heavy breath, and Athos' hand tightened on d'Artagnan's hair. 

"Yes."

"Annoying, isn't it." 

"Don't sound smug," d'Artagnan said crossly. 

"I'm suffering from a lack of wine," Athos said. d'Artagnan lifted his head, then slowly got up and headed to the table to gather up the wine, glasses and an apple. He came back, also retrieved a pillow from the bed and dropped it on the floor, settling back down again. He poured himself a glass of wine and gave Athos the bottle. 

"Thank you," Athos said. 

"Constance has more downstairs," d'Artagnan said. 

"That's good," Athos said. "Are you sure you are ready for this?" 

"I'll be fine. It's not like I have never been in danger before." 

"It is different this time, as you said. It will concern us to know you are at risk, even though we know that you can take care of yourself. Now you also worry about us, even if we are not in danger ourselves, you know we will react to any threat to you." 

"I know. It seems to make everything far more complicated." 

"It does. And you are willing to make sacrifices. You did for Porthos." 

"That's not quite as dramatic as everyone makes out. It's not like I'd never been with an alpha." 

"I know. But you had made it rather clear from the start that you had no interest in that. Other than the king."

"How do you say no to the king?" d'Artagnan asked. He took a sip of wine and rested his head back down on Athos' thigh. Athos put his hand back through d'Artagnan's hair and swigged some wine from the bottle. 

"It is difficult. However, I doubt he would have been too offended if you demurred."

"At the time it didn't seem a tactful response, given the situation. He is the king." 

"I'm sure now if you withdrew from the palace it would not be taken badly." 

d'Artagnan thought about it. "I'm not sure I want to." 

"Then don't, if you are happy there."

d'Artagnan thought about it. He didn't mind spending time with Louis, or being around the palace. Nor did he mind spending time at the Garrison either, with his other three alphas. Some of the other Musketeers had difficulties with him, but that was simply because he was considered Feral, and it was not, generally, an attractive trait in an omega. 

They were used to omegas such as Pierre, who still had the ability to handle alphas, but were more subtle about their methods. d'Artagnan had no choice but to fight back, and had been fighting in that manner for years. Then again, his three Musketeer alphas seemed quite content for him to behave as he did. Although he clearly made them angry on occasion, and they felt concern for him, they also seemed to feel no need to curtail his behaviour either. Neither did the king, despite the destruction d'Artagnan seemed to cause whenever he was around in the palace. 

"I believe you are thinking too much about this," Athos said.

"Perhaps," d'Artagnan said. "I guess I don't like to think."

Athos smirked. "That fact is often evident."

d'Artagnan snorted, and swigged the wine in his glass. Athos topped it up for him. 

"I know I don't always calculate my reactions. I know I should, it would prevent more than a few incidents." 

Athos ran his fingers through d'Artagnan's hair, deciding that the gesture had a rather comforting feel about it. The omega clearly thought the same as he pressed his head into Athos' hand.

"Do you know what happened between myself and MiLady?" Athos asked. 

"She says you killed her, or at least you thought you had. She killed your brother." 

"An omega. Anne stated that he attacked her."

"You didn't believe her." 

"Of course not. I loved her, and I also loved my brother. He disapproved of her." 

"Do you doubt your decision?" d'Artagnan asked. Athos didn't answer, he took a deep drink of the wine, and d'Artagnan thought he was probably going to have to go and get another bottle fairly soon. 

"Often. But my brother was naive. Our family kept him so. I was probably the most guilty of that." 

Which was why, d'Artagnan judged, that Athos avoided the company of omegas since. Until him. And he had proved often enough to Athos that he was able to take care of himself. Although Athos had not been keen to put him in danger, especially at the beginning of their relationship, he still allowed it. Almost as if, sometimes, he wanted to test d'Artagnan's resilience before getting any further involved. 

d'Artagnan decided that voicing such an opinion was a little provocative, so instead he uncurled himself, assessed the bottle that they had almost drunk, got up and gave Athos a taste of his own medicine by running his fingers through Athos' hair. He scowled at d'Artagnan, but he also smirked at the same time. 

"I'll get us another bottle." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

At least his part of the plan was going well enough, since he was now chained up in the cellar of the Cardinal's residence. He had let the Red Guard take him as he had walked through the city. The first group to see him started following, and it seemed to cause a chain reaction, so in the end he was surrounded by twelve men. 

That might have boosted his ego slightly, but the force of numbers was probably to ensure that they could taken him with a minimal amount of harm. He had made it look as if he was trying to work his way through the backstreets to get out of Paris, and he had managed to lead them a merry dance. In the end they pinned him down in a narrow street, coming at him from both sides, the guards pushing people out of the way, and knowing better than to get involved they had discreetly moved on.

d'Artagnan pulled his gun, looking from one group to the other. They advanced carefully. 

"You can only shoot one of us," one of the Red Guard pointed out. 

"Which one wants to die then?" d'Artagnan asked. He didn't really want to kill anyone in this altercation. And it wasn't really necessary, he needed to be taken to the Cardinal, not end up leaving the Red Guard feeling vengeful towards him. He supposed a flesh wound might make a convincing compromise, but again, the guards still might exact some revenge out of him. 

Dropping the gun he pulled his sword and dagger. With that he might have had a better chance, should the fight be serious, but as they moved, backing him towards a wall, they clearly had a plan of attack worked out, as they paired off, four of them drawing their swords, clearly to fend off the weapons, while others moved closer, keeping behind their comrades, their plan to clearly grab him while he was fending off the armed men. 

The leader of the group, stepped further forward. 

"We just have orders to get you to the Cardinal. We're going to do that. Now, depending on how this goes, we can do that swiftly, or take our time getting you there." 

d'Artagnan read that hint. They might not be able to hurt him, but that didn't rule out other pursuits, and once he was disabled there was enough of them to keep him that way, for as long as they wanted. 

None of his alphas would appreciate his stupidity of willingly walking into that situation. Nor did d'Artagnan himself feel inclined to service an entire group of Red Guards. After a second's pause he dropped his weapons, raising his hands. Four of them lunged forward, grabbing his arms. He tensed a little as he felt them wrap something around his wrists, then a well aimed blow meant he knew nothing else. 

Until he woke up chained in a cellar. Two Red Guard sat nearby playing cards. They paused as d'Artagnan sat up, examined his chains, felt the lump on the back of his head, and then looked around at where he was. There was a barrel of decent looking wine nearby, but it was just out of his reach. He jumped as a water skin thudded against his chest. 

"You're in the Cardinal's Residence, in case you were wondering. So we don't get to play with you." 

"You wouldn't find it very appealing anyway," d'Artagnan told him, taking a mouthful of water. Both of the guards glowered and went back to their cards. d'Artagnan wondered if he should try annoying them, which was worthwhile, because he wanted to know he was where they said he was. 

"I want to see the Cardinal." 

"Well, he hasn't asked to see you," one guard announced. 

"Probably because you haven't told him I have woken up," d'Artagnan said and he hurled the water skin at the pair of them, hitting the table between them with perfect accuracy, scattering their cards, and drinks over the floor. They both lurched up, trying to avoid the mess. One of them turned to d'Artagnan his fists clenching and fury written across his face. 

"Get the Cardinal!" d'Artagnan demanded. "Unless of course he's not here." 

"Of course he is," a smooth female voice announced. Both men turned in surprise. d'Artagnan was not surprised to see MiLady, although he did wonder how long she had been lurking in the shadows waiting for him to wake up. Moving forward she held out a hand and without a word the nearest guard handed her a set of keys. d'Artagnan watched her move towards him, her smooth walk almost predatory. 

"You are exactly where they say you are. If you want to see the Cardinal, I presume you can behave yourself." 

"He's not going unescorted," the guard announced, pulling his gun. The other man did the same. MiLady looked unimpressed with them, and d'Artagnan guessed they were not aware that she was far more deadly than they were. 

"Very well," she said. Reaching down she unlocked the chains and d'Artagnan slowly stood up. Both Red Guards regarded him suspiciously. MiLady regarded him with some amusement. 

"I suppose I should thank you, for killing my husband." 

"You don't sound very grateful," d'Artagnan told her. 

"I would have liked the pleasure myself." 

It was momentarily on his tongue to point out she had had her chance, but he had ruined that. He had pulled Athos from the burning house, and he wasn't sure she was even aware of that. He smirked. 

"I got the pleasure instead." 

She eyed him steadily, before turning and walking towards the stairs. d'Artagnan followed, the two guards in tow, both with their guns ready. As they went upstairs d'Artagnan looked around. He was familiar with the building, since he had burst in here once before to confront the Cardinal, and he felt quite reassured to be taken into the room he had seen before, with the man in question sat as his desk. He looked up at the sounds of footsteps. 

"Our Little Feral wanted to see you." 

"For what reason," Richelieu asked, putting down the quill he had been writing with. He moved the papers slightly, which d'Artagnan decided did not bode well, since he remembered exactly what he had threatened the Cardinal with in his room. "I want him for one purpose only." 

"And what is that?" d'Artagnan said. "You have already said more than once you would find me useful." 

"My guards might, however, I would suggest you have outlived that. Only one use remains. Your two remaining Alphas want you alive, and in one piece, presumably so they can take you apart. Interesting tactic, killing one of your own alphas." 

"He was asking for it," d'Artagnan growled ominously. "I am not a possession to be passed around." 

The Cardinal moved around his desk, moving to the left, round the side he had pushed the papers towards. MiLady neatly stepped aside as the two guards behind grabbed him. d'Artagnan tensed, and pulled back, trying to get free but within seconds they slammed him face down on the desk, pinning his arms. d'Artagnan sensed the movement as the Cardinal moved behind him. He tried kicking out, but unable to see where the man actually was he got nothing but air. He growled as he felt MiLady move in on the right, her gloved hand resting on the back of his neck. Tilting his head as best he could he glared up at her, and her face glittered with amusement. 

"I think that is exactly what you are now," the Cardinal said smoothly. d'Artagnan clenched his teeth, and struggled to get up. The men increased the pressure holding him down. For a moment he felt a searing moment of panic. However, it was clear the Cardinal was making a point, and unlikely to damage him. 

"Because that is why you are still in one piece. If not, I could have easily have had you hanged. Or at least let my guards take you apart piece by piece." 

d'Artagnan growled. The Cardinal carried on talking. 

"Now, I have heard they have proof that I am involved in the attempt on the Queen's life." 

"I know you were," d'Artagnan snapped. He felt the Cardinal's hand on the waistband of his trousers, and there was the rip of material. d'Artagnan hissed and snarled. 

"I have enough of my men in this house to keep you busy for the rest of the afternoon, unless you tell me the truth." 

"And you won't get what you want if you damage me," d'Artagnan said. The hands retracted momentarily. 

"Is there such a letter?" 

After a moment's struggle d'Artagnan answered. "Yes."

"And if I give you to them, they will get it for me." 

"Of course they will. Aramis knows where Treville keeps it," d'Artagnan said. He got the surprise of his life as the men holding him down suddenly retreated. For a few seconds he stayed as he was before slowly rising. Looking up he glared at the Cardinal, who walked around the table, to put it between himself and d'Artagnan. 

"Interestingly, I believe you," the Cardinal said. "But it serves you no purpose to help me." 

"It serves me no purpose to help anyone. My only aim is survival." 

"Can you survive Porthos and Aramis? From what I have heard, they want you in one piece. The Musketeers are hunting you. Whether or not you killed one of their own, you are one of their omegas, and they won't waste you. There are too few of you for them to be ruled by petty vengeance." 

"You don't think Porthos and Aramis will take revenge on me." 

"Not quite in the way you think. They are still your alphas, as is the king, and although it is quite clear his interest is waning, it would still be prudent to tread carefully. You've kept the illusion up well, but it's clear you have no desire for Louis. However, he is quite happy with the illusion of being the one who keeps the Musketeer Feral tame in his bed." 

d'Artagnan snarled, but he knew the fact of that. Louis wouldn't give him up, the kudos of having d'Artagnan was too much for the alpha in Louis. The Cardinal eyed d'Artagnan in speculation for continuing. 

"And you could still be useful to me, which may guarantee you still survive, and maybe even manage some say in your future." 

d'Artagnan very carefully straightened up. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean, if you help me get the letter. I will help you. I can protect you from the Musketeers." 

"Why would I believe you. You conspired to murder the Queen. I hear everything from all sides," d'Artagnan said. "Even from the king." 

The Cardinal froze. Looking at the other people in the room. "Out!" 

The guards left without a word. MiLady lingered for a moment but the glare the Cardinal gave her made her sweep from the room. The gaze chilled d'Artagnan as it turned to him, but he presumed he was safe, at least for a moment. As long as he was useful. 

"From the king?" the Cardinal prompted. 

"He said he didn't mean what he said, and what he thought. It was something he would only say to one person. He wished her dead, didn't he? And you acted on it, so quickly, you grasped that opportunity to get rid of her with both hands." 

"If you were capable of breeding, it wouldn't matter," the Cardinal snapped as he took his seat. d'Artagnan frowned.

"However, do you wish to survive?" 

"Of course I do," d'Artagnan snarled. 

"Then, I can use you to get the letter, once I have that, using you as bait, I am then in a better position to help you. If I have the letter, Treville has nothing. He is a practical man, and will not allow Porthos and Aramis to waste you, even over Athos." 

"And what would I get?" 

"I would propose we move you to other alphas, but I would be your lead alpha, I would not want to deprive the Musketeers of one of it's omegas. But you should not be wasted. I can offer you a commission in the Red Guard and you can pick the alphas of your choice. But you will report to Treville." 

"And spy on the Musketeers." 

"You have an eye for detail. That is quite clear. I could use that." 

"But for that you have to hand me back." 

"I need that letter, once I have that, I will protect you." 

d'Artagnan said nothing, he merely nodded. Even after this, he could use the Cardinal, even if that was not the result the Cardinal expected.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am starting to think I write these type of stories better when I don't put in too much from the series storylines, which I seem to have got stuck doing with this story. So a little veering away may now happen, before I come back to a few things I want to put into this.

Athos had to admit that both d'Artagnan and Porthos were damn good actors, as he observed from his place of concealment in the confessional. A position which was rather ironic, all things considered. He had wanted to make sure his omega was fine and well, which he appeared to be. 

Despite the fact he had put himself in his current position, d'Artagnan had behaved exactly to type. Which was why his wrists were bound and someone had gagged him. Two Red Guard flanked him, both of them keeping a firm grip of his arms as he was led along behind the Cardinal. At the sight of him Porthos had growled, stepping forward, and forcing Aramis next to him to hold him back. It would have been read as fury by anyone else watching, but Athos immediately knew, Porthos wanted possession of his omega, to check he was fine and well. 

d'Artagnan's response was muffled by the gag, but Athos easily picked out the obscenities that he spat at Porthos. Athos felt rather inclined to wash d'Artagnan's mouth out with soap when they got him back, if it wasn't for the fact that Porthos had probably taught him most of the words. Still, it made for a convincing show. 

The situation ran, Athos decided, very much as expected. d'Artagnan made a fuss of being handed over to Porthos, who made a great show of dragging d'Artagnan towards him, eventually getting him down onto his knees, one huge hand wrapped in the omega's hair. None if it would be hurting d'Artagnan too much, but it made for an impressive display. Aramis watched that, and the Cardinal's face, with amusement as he realised the letter had nothing on it. 

"And who will the king believe, two lowly Musketeers, over me." 

"And the king's own omega," Porthos added, changing his grip on d'Artagnan's hair, releasing it from his fist and smoothing it down. 

The Cardinal rolled his eyes, eventually looking down at d'Artagnan he leant into Porthos' soothing hand. Athos decided enough was enough and opening the door stepped from the confessional. The Red Guard all tensed, and Athos heard one of them muttering under his breath. The Cardinal raised his eyebrows and then looked down at the omega still kneeling on the floor. 

"I might have known. I certainly have to give you credit," he said to d'Artagnan who shrugged. Still the Cardinal pulled himself together, glaring at the group. 

"And yet, the king may still not believe you." 

d'Artagnan tried to pull the gag from his mouth, and then jumped as a new voice echoed around the stone church. 

"The King will most certainly believe me," the Queen announced. Everyone turned to look in the direction of the voice. Except Athos, who kept his gaze on d'Artagnan, a question in his eyes. d'Artagnan gave another shrug, Athos reached to pull the gag out of d'Artagnan's mouth. Although as he took hold of the material he paused. 

"I'm not sure I should considering what I just heard you say." 

d'Artagnan glowered, and Athos yanked the material clear. d'Artagnan let Porthos pull him up. The Queen appeared, led by Treville, Constance a step behind them. Treville looked slightly annoyed, but contained himself in the Queen's presence. 

He had been, d'Artagnan judged, the best escort for her. It discreetly got her into position to witness exactly what happened, with d'Artagnan's messages run via Constance. 

"We need to have a very long talk," Treville warned d'Artagnan. Porthos cut the ropes around his wrists. 

"A very, very, long talk," Porthos agreed. 

"Certainly about his language," Athos murmured, bowing as the Queen moved closer. Porthos took the excuse of moving d'Artagnan out of the Queen's way to pull him closer and check his scent. 

"Are you all right?" 

"Yes," d'Artagnan assured him, there was no point even trying to escape Porthos' grip. Porthos seemed happy with the answer, keeping d'Artagnan in the circle of his arms as the Queen dealt with the Cardinal. It was only d'Artagnan that didn't feel surprised at the Queen's answer. But he thought that most of the surprise lay in how confident she seemed. She had only ever been seen in conjunction with her alpha, now she seemed to have blossomed into something else entirely, almost glowing in the presence of the alphas now around her. 

d'Artagnan wondered how long the Queen had seen herself in that way, only part herself, attached to her alpha. Possibly all her marriage, until d'Artagnan had come along. Athos had tactfully kept the information that d'Artagnan had been training her with a sword and gun to himself. It seemed to have instilled a level of confidence in Anne, in the fact that d'Artagnan saw her as more than just the Queen, he saw her as a person. 

"Oh, and Cardinal," the Queen had turned away, putting her hand on Treville's arm, but she turned to look back at the still kneeling Cardinal, who waited warily. "I'm sure you will find some very compelling evidence which will exonerate Count Mellendorf." 

Richelieu lowered his head again. "Of course your Majesty." 

With that the troop of Musketeers flanked the Queen and followed her out. Porthos gave d'Artagnan another check over as they walked. As they left the building, Pierre, who was lingering by the Queen's carriage, handed d'Artagnan his weapons. 

"You left them behind, or rather the Red Guard did." 

"Thank you," d'Artagnan said, strapping everything into place, which meant that he had a few seconds breathing space. He felt better with his weapons back, all three were a gift from Serge, and d'Artagnan had no wish to lose them. Once he was armed, Porthos got a hand on the nape of his neck, and Aramis brushed a stray hair away from his forehead. 

"I presume the Queen's presence was your idea?" Treville said. 

"Louis will listen to her above the rest of us. I think you have an advantage," d'Artagnan told her knowingly. 

The Queen's cheeks flushed slightly. A few of them stood around frowned, but neither omega said anything further. The Queen turned to Constance. 

"Thank you." 

Constance gave an elegant curtsey. As she rose up Pierre took her arm. "I'll escort Constance home. I presume you four will want to escort the Queen back to the palace." 

"Yes, we will," d'Artagnan said. 

The Queen smiled and then she regarded the three alphas hanging around him. 

"And perhaps then you had better spend some time with your alphas." 

"There is something else we have to do first," Athos warned the others. 

"Will Richelieu warn her?" Aramis asked. 

"No. She's outlived her usefulness, he'll cut her loose, and she'll have no where to go," Athos said. 

"So she may have already got away?" Porthos said. "As far as she knows, she has what she wanted. You dead. Is there any reason for her to stay?" 

Athos didn't say it out loud but he gave d'Artagnan a significant glance. There was no doubt MiLady still had unfinished business with their omega. Which made it very much their business. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

With the Queen back at the palace, the four of them were heading back to the Garrison and had almost crossed the threshold when Pierre barrelled into them, a contingent of his alphas in tow.

"You'd better come now!" 

None of them needed that much urging and followed him at a run back to Constance's house. All four of them slammed to a halt in the doorway as they looked at the carnage that had been wreaked in the lower room. d'Artagnan gave a hiss of shock as he looked down at Bonacieux. He had probably not been given time to put up any sort of a struggle before the knife had been put to his throat. 

Two of the nearby chairs had been overturned as he had staggered away from his attacker. 

"Oh God!" d'Artagnan gasped. He almost felt like pulling Athos away as he moved closer, carefully sidestepping the congealing pool of blood by Bonacieux's head. The man's eyes stared sightlessly across the room. 

"Where's Constance?" Aramis said, getting to practicalities. 

"Upstairs with Laurent, as soon as I saw... what happened.. we took her out. She's a bit...." 

A bit probably wouldn't cover how she felt. d'Artagnan had sensed that perhaps her choice of husband had not been her own, and wasn't what she really wanted, but as far as d'Artagnan could work out the man had been, if not loving, at least decent to her. He was older than her, which probably constrained more than a younger choice would have. At that moment d'Artagnan wished he had asked her a little more, and it occurred to him that the Musketeers had been taking her a little for granted.

Athos crouched by the body and lifted the flower that had been laid on his chest. 

"MiLady?" Porthos said. 

"It's her signature. But I doubt the husband was the target. It was fortunate that d'Artagnan had diverted Constance elsewhere." 

"We need to get her out of her," d'Artagnan said. He turned to Pierre. 

"Take her to the palace, and tell the Queen what happened." 

Behind him one of Pierre's alphas tensed, eyes flashing as he realised that d'Artagnan was handing out orders. Pierre didn't seem to take any offense by it, but his alphas did. d'Artagnan sensed Porthos move closer to him. 

"Do as he says," Athos added. 

And annoyingly, that order was obeyed instantly. d'Artagnan decided not to feel irritated about that and instead turned to his alphas. 

"What do we do next?" d'Artagnan asked. 

"If she came here," Aramis said, crouching down and looking over Bonacieux's throat. "Then she knows we use this place as a bolthole. How long as she known that?" 

"The only person she has taken an interest in who might have given her that clue is d'Artagnan." 

d'Artagnan frowned. "I didn't tell her." 

"No, but it wouldn't surprise me if she had followed you, or had someone keeping an eye on you." 

"Could she have worked out that Athos is alive?" Porthos said. 

"Maybe, but you have laid low until now, and we even had a funeral. We played our parts well enough. The Cardinal won't have warned her," Aramis said, slowly standing up. 

"So, I am the best weapon we have," Athos concluded. "We just need to draw her out." 

"Me," d'Artagnan said. "She wants me. This is supposed to bring me. I know where she is." 

"Do you?" 

"Yes, I think I do. She'll be waiting for me." 

"Well, let's not try her patience." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

d'Artagnan hadn't been expecting a shot. He moved quickly enough to feel it graze his arm but he pitched to the floor, and she followed up with a second gun. d'Artagnan stayed on the floor, but lifted his hands, and MiLady smirked down at him. 

"You found my message?" she asked. 

"Yes. I presume it was meant to be Constance." 

"Is that her name," she sneered. d'Artagnan felt his hackles rise and he got on his knees, ready to rise up. 

"And what was the purpose of killing Bonacieux?" 

"It achieved my aim. Getting hold of you. You've spent months playing the same game as me, trying to survive and hedging your bets. You killed one of your alphas, and tried to get away. We could both leave." 

"d'Artagnan, I think, has made his choice," Athos drawled as he stepped from the darkness behind MiLady. 

All d'Artagnan saw was a slight tensing of her shoulders. The gun on him never wavered, but she knew Athos was behind her. She sensed him in the same way that d'Artagnan did. There was a trace of omega in her beta, which was perhaps why Athos had found her acceptable. She could have fooled him with that, and perhaps enough scent. 

"I might have known," MiLady snapped, keeping the gun on d'Artagnan. "Stay on your knees or I will kill you." 

d'Artagnan obediently stayed where he was. The look from Athos told him to stay out of it. He would do that to a point, but if Athos ended up in danger, he would take over. By the slight incline of Athos' head he understood the look d'Artagnan gave back. MiLady moved to the side, circling d'Artagnan, to keep the gun on him and make sure he was also between her and Athos. d'Artagnan watched his alpha, whose eyes stayed on his wife. He didn't feel jealous of them. Athos was his, above her, and he had never betrayed his alphas. He fought them, and never played by the rules, but that was an accepted part of their personality and they left that alone, and trusted him to come back to them. 

"I could kill him," she said. 

"You could, but you haven't. Clearly you have no inclination to kill him. Why try to kill Constance?" 

Athos moved forward, watching her carefully. d'Artagnan tilted his head to watch her reactions. Her eyes stayed on Athos, her face a mixture of anger and desire. It occurred to d'Artagnan that she still loved him, despite all her actions. Athos reached out his left hand, moving so he could take a firm grip of d'Artagnan's hair and he turned d'Artagnan's gaze away from her. The grip on his hair was almost brutal, dragging against his scalp. There was something in it warning d'Artagnan to not look round again. When Athos released him d'Artagnan heard the sounds of footsteps. He recognised Athos' tread moving behind him, and the click of MiLady's heels. There was something of a scuffle, and the tinkling of metal as something fell to the floor. He could only hear faint whispers as they spoke, but he couldn't make out the words. 

d'Artagnan waited. His hands were still raised, and he stared across the room, seeing a shadow of movement in the window, but he couldn't make out what the shadows meant. Was Athos killing her? d'Artagnan wanted to turn his head, but there had been something in that firm grip that warned him not to even consider it. He lost track of the sounds, and jumped a moment later as Athos' hand returned to the back of his neck. He grabbed his hair again, pulling him up, and d'Artagnan went with the movement, allowing Athos to propel him from the house. He managed to gain some leverage to glance behind. There was nothing there, no body at least, so she was still alive. 

"What?" d'Artagnan asked as his hair was wrenched hard and Athos pushed him out of the door.

"It's over." 

"She's not...?"

"Dead?" Athos asked. "No." 

His tone almost dared d'Artagnan to say anything further. Athos pulled him down the street, and d'Artagnan said nothing, wishing the others were with him. He wasn't quite sure what to do with this side of Athos. There had always been a simmering element to his personality, which d'Artagnan had never wished to really ignite. Now he somehow had. Or at least MiLady had. 

Athos yanked him into the shadows and slammed him back against a wall. d'Artagnan went very still as Athos pressed against him. 

"Did you sleep with her?" 

d'Artagnan inhaled sharply. But he got the feeling that Athos would know if he lied. He was, of his alphas, the one that had watched him very carefully, and had probably made a note of every little nuance that he thought he needed to know about d'Artagnan. Athos' alpha scent filled his nostrils, and d'Artagnan didn't doubt that his own scent had increased as a response. Despite his own ingrained behaviour he couldn't help reacting to Athos. 

"d'Artagnan." Athos literally growled at him, pressing himself harder against d'Artagnan. 

"Yes." The omega couldn't lie in such a situation. In fact he didn't want to lie to Athos. d'Artagnan spent a lot of his time lying, particularly to himself, but there was no way he wanted to lie to this man. 

"Yes?" 

"Once, Athos." 

"When?" 

"On the night she gave me the money for the tournament with the Red Guard." 

"Only then?" 

"Yes, for God's sake Athos!" 

Then d'Artagnan smelt it. The swirl of pheromones was so strong he felt his knees buckle. Athos hadn't exactly gone to rut but his dominance had risen up. 

"Athos, what..." D'Artagnan tried to push him back, but didn't try too hard, as Athos placed his hands on either side of d'Artagnan's shoulders and leant back away from him slightly. 

"I'm fine, d'Artagnan." 

"You don't seem fine, you seem... unleashed." 

"As you are feral." 

"We're not taking about me this time. Athos, calm down." 

He heard Athos inhale deeply and as he did he took in d'Artagnan's scent. 

"I'm sorry," d'Artagnan said. "She's not..."

"She's gone d'Artagnan. I'd like to say she won't be back but she may well be." 

"You could have killed her." 

"I couldn't." 

"That's good, in a way. You're not a murderer, Athos." 

"She is." 

"Yes, I think so." 

Neither of them said nothing for a few minutes. d'Artagnan slid his hand around Athos' waist to keep him close, and he slowly felt his alpha relax against him. Athos inhaled again, pressing himself back against d'Artagnan. 

d'Artagnan tightened his grip, holding Athos against him. He felt Athos' hand twine into his hair, far gentler this time, and his cheek brushed d'Artagnan's as he inhaled again. 

"We need to get off the street," d'Artagnan concluded. 

"My lodging room is near." 

"Athos, I can't tell anyone where we are and... they will go mad if they can't find us." 

"And?" 

"I'm a bit frightened to be alone with you." 

"I understand." 

At those words d'Artagnan tightened his arm around Athos but pushed himself away from the wall, making Athos back up several steps. d'Artagnan carefully kept his arms around the alpha. 

"As soon as I am delivered to the Garrison, you can leave." 

d'Artagnan paused. "Then I'd rather we went to your lodgings, I don't want to leave you." 

"You know I would never hurt you." 

"I know, but..." d'Artagnan paused and thought for a moment. "I can't deal with everything if no one knows where we are. I need to make sure Constance is all right, and Porthos and Aramis need to know what's happened, and so do the rest of the Musketeers, unless Treville has told them you are no longer dead and..." 

"And you suddenly seem to care about a lot of people." 

"I always did care," d'Artagnan snapped. "It just ended up being about me. All I used to have was myself." 

Athos clung and breathed for a moment. d'Artagnan wrapped himself around Athos and waited. 

"We need to get somewhere. The Garrison is safer, someone can help us there," d'Artagnan reasoned. 

"I agree," Athos eventually concluded. 

So they stumbled and struggled to the Garrison. d'Artagnan fired messages at a few Musketeers as he got Athos into the barracks and into his own room. Each omega had been allocated one, and he had been no exception. d'Artagnan assumed that the residual scent might help settle his alpha. He put Athos down on the bed, and then pulled off the alpha's tunic and boots before sliding onto the bed with him. Athos was breathing heavily, but his scent had calmed. It was nothing to do with rousing a heat. 

d'Artagnan concluded that it was merely a release of the anger that Athos had been holding in for so many years. He actually hoped that Aramis and Porthos held off arriving for a little while. 

As he stood up with that thought in mind, Athos' hand snaked out and gripped his wrist. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I want to let Serge know to assure Porthos and Aramis we are fine and for them to hold off coming in here for a while." 

Athos sat up, his hand tightening on d'Artagnan's wrist. 

"What for?" 

"Because you are... angry." It was the best word that d'Artagnan could use at that time. "I don't think you have been like that for a while. I am probably better just being here without them for a time." 

Athos' grip relaxed, and he gave a slight smile. 

"I understand what you mean. Get some wine while you are there." 

"I will. I won't be long." 

"I'm sure you won't be," Athos said as he released d'Artagnan's wrist. The omega almost sprinted away, not because he wanted to get away from him, but because he wanted to get what he needed to do done and get back. Athos lay back, letting the feelings run over him. Angry wasn't a word that really covered it. He had loved Anne, she had drawn him in, and he could have accepted many of her faults. But she had killed his brother. An omega. 

Athos had done his duty, but his duty had been hard to bear, but he had dealt with it. And then ridden away. It was too much for him to live with. 

Now he had another omega to deal with. d'Artagnan was hard work. More work that one person was possibly capable of producing. However, one thing he was, without doubt, was something Athos could live with. He closed his eyes as he heard the sound of comforting footsteps. 

They were d'Artagnan's. And he had brought wine.


	20. Chapter Twenty

D’Artagnan never minded what several of the Musketeers thought were menial jobs. He was happy to muck out the stables, and being around the horses was settling. Buttercup occasionally turned her head away from her hay to watch him, chewing slowly, her ears flicking back and forth as she listened to d’Artagnan’s voice. 

There had been so much movement in the yard beyond, with some of the other men training and heading back and forth on tasks, that d’Artagnan didn’t immediately react to the shadows that appeared in the doorway. He only paused when they moved further into the stable. He stopped shovelling and stared at the group of six alphas, and the one furthest back pulled the stable door almost shut. 

That, d’Artagnan decided, did not bode well. Buttercup stirred restlessly in the stall behind him, sensing the increase in tension in her master. d'Artagnan eyed the group, noting that each one looked ready for action, and knowing that not a single one of them liked him. He didn't like them much either, but he knew he had a general aversion to alphas.

It would not have been unusual for him to gather more than three around him. In a sense the king had a separate relationship with him. Omegas were encouraged to have as many alphas as they could possibly manage. d'Artagnan had rebuffed any attempts, and none of the Musketeers had bothered him, because it had been made quite clear he only wanted the three. And there had been a level of caution because he was in the king's bed. 

But now that situation had changed. The Queen was pregnant, and her alpha was rather taken with her in that condition. As a result, d'Artagnan did spend time at the palace, but as things were quiet, he was at the Garrison at least during the day. 

"I'm guessing this is happening now, because my alphas are elsewhere." 

"You need a lesson in manners." 

d'Artagnan smirked to himself, and shook his head as he stepped forward. "Really, I think my manners are fine, to people that deserve it." 

"You should respect your betters," one of them said, as they started towards him. 

"And what makes you better than me?" 

"We are alphas." 

"That makes you a different caste, it doesn't make you better." 

"You'll take what you are given, and you'll learn some respect." 

d'Artagnan tensed, moving the shovel in his grip. The rest of his weapons were in his room. He hardly thought he needed them in the Garrison. As much as he knew the other alphas didn't like him, he didn't think they would be something he had to defend himself against. 

"And what are you going to do when I tell my alphas about this?" 

"You won't tell them. You don't ever tell them," one of them pointed out. He hadn't told them of any of the comments that he heard, and the odd bruises he got during training. 

"I think I might change my mind on that," d'Artagnan warned. "And do you really want to anger them. You might not like the way I am, but I don't see them complaining." 

"You affect not just them, but the rest of us." 

And they hated him. The other seven omegas in the Musketeers were calming, and didn't argue publicly. They got their own way, but they had been brought up to be deferential, and so the alphas did not notice their subtle influence. d'Artagnan was starting to think that even his father had taught him to be as he was. LaBarge remained the considered perpetrator of many of his bad habits, but d'Artagnan was starting to think differently.

"And you're going to teach me a lesson. And annoy my alphas." 

"We'll make sure you won't tell them," one of them said. He was backed into to stable, he had only so far he could move before they caught him. However, he jabbed the shovel into a nearby heap of dung and flipped it up, then spun the end of the shovel to try and smack the nearest alpha in the face with the handle. 

He managed to get one hard smack in before they surged in and hands were on him. They kicked his legs out from under him and got him down on the stable floor. There were several thuds from the neighbouring stall as Buttercup kicked and stomped. 

"That's his horse." 

"If she makes too much noise, kill her." 

"NO!" d'Artagnan yelled then something was shoved into his mouth. He struggled as hard as he could, not wanting them to hurt the horse. She was not exactly the nicest animal in the world, but she did her job and had done nothing wrong. 

He was hauled up onto his knees, and he managed to push the material out of his mouth. 

"Leave her alone!" he kept his voice low, but forceful. 

"Why should we?" 

"Leave her alone, she's done nothing." 

"She's as bad as you. When an animal misbehaves, you deal with it. If it's no good to you, you get rid of it." 

"Don't hurt her," d'Artagnan begged. He felt the alphas holding him pause. Buttercup snorted, trying to get her head over the stall to see him. She was starting to kick the wood, but d'Artagnan wasn't holding out any hope that any other Musketeer was going to rescue him, however much noise she made. 

"So, you'll behave now, won't you?" 

He was dragged forward and then hands were on his laces as they grappled to pull his trousers off, then other hands tugged on his tunic. As they did that he was desperately trying to keep his gaze on Buttercup. There was the odd reassuring bang as her feet slammed about, so that meant she was still alive. Once they stripped him he was pulled over to the end post of the stall, pushed onto his knees and his arms pulled up to secure his wrists to the top of the post. The lead man had undone his belt, wrapping the leather around his hand and letting the end drop. 

Turning his head d'Artagnan tried to see his horse. 

"She'll be fine, as long as you learn you lesson." 

The end of the belt caught the back of his leg. It was a light touch, but had the threat of something worse. However, the belt might redden his skin, but not bruise him. They didn't want him getting any lasting damage. He kept a lot of things from his alphas, but that he would have to explain. 

"Spread your legs." 

Mindful of the fact that he and Buttercup were outnumbered, he did as he was told, feeling the pull on his wrists and arms as they were forced to take more of his weight. There was a laugh from one side, and someone muttered something. 

"He won't tell his alphas, he never does," someone responded. 

"I don't have to," d'Artagnan said. 

There was a snort from one of the alphas, then the crack of wood as the stable door slammed shut. d'Artagnan turned his head. The shadows made the figure who had stepped through the stable door unmistakable. 

For a moment, he felt a flicker of pity for his tormentors. Of his alphas, Porthos was the worst one to anger, over him. He was possessive and protective in equal measures. d'Artagnan tried to free his wrists, and shifted position, trying to get off his knees to check on his horse. One of the alphas pushed him back down again. 

"Porthos, is Buttercup all right?" 

There was an answer as there was a stomp and snort. 

"She's fine, and I think these gentlemen will be ensuring her safety. Although I can't vouch for theirs." 

"He needs disciplining, Porthos, he puts us all at risk with his behaviour." 

"Is that right?" Porthos said, stepping forward. d'Artagnan tried to get up again and someone slammed a hand into his shoulder, shoving him down again. Porthos gave a growl. 

"It's within our rights to pull him into line." 

"Not without our permission," Porthos said. "and I think this has very little to do with his behaviour." Porthos pulled a dagger as he moved forward, getting close enough to d'Artagnan to slam the blade into the rope holding him. It loosened as he pulled down, severing the rope. He shifted behind Porthos and twisted his wrists to loosen the material further. 

"It doesn't need your permission. We all agree he needs dealing with." 

"I think you'll find, he does not," Porthos told them. 

"You've seen his affect on the other omegas, including the Queen." 

d'Artagnan paused, looking up, assessing the group with a frown. He finally pulled his left wrist clear of the ropes and then shrugged it off his right, before scrabbling for his clothes. 

"Are you sure Buttercup's all right? They were going to hurt her," d'Artagnan said, far more concerned about his horse than himself. Porthos moved through the group, to the alpha at the back, holding the gun. 

"I never touched her." 

"Good," said Porthos, giving the man a shove, pushing him into Buttercup's range. Her reaction was exactly as he predicted as she lashed out with her back feet, catching the alpha and propelling him into the far wall with a crash, making him crumple to the floor. d'Artagnan got his underwear on, left the rest of his clothes and moved round the group to get into the stall with her, running his hand over her hind quarters and moving up to check her over. Buttercup gave a soft snort, rubbing her nose against his shoulder, as if to reassure him everything was fine. 

Porthos stepped around the alphas, shoving them away from d'Artagnan and Buttercup, and they made a retreat to the door. He got in as many hits as he could before they pulled together, responding to the threat that Porthos was. 

"You really think you are going to get away with this?" Porthos snarled. 

"Porthos, leave it," d'Artagnan said. "I want to get Buttercup out of here." 

"No one is going to hurt her," Porthos said, sounding as if he might take it personally if they did. And he had a hate/hate relationship with Buttercup. Still, as he moved closer Buttercup gave a low snort and relaxed. Porthos risked moving behind her. She flipped her tail but remained steady. 

"As I said," Porthos said. 

"I want her out of here," announced a rattled looking d'Artagnan. 

"None of us are going anywhere until you get dressed. Put your clothes on, and we will leave here, and convene with Aramis and Athos." 

d'Artagnan huffed. Buttercup snorted and d'Artagnan took the hint and went for his clothes. 

"I could take her to the palace." 

"You could, and stay there. We can deal with this, once I tell Athos and Aramis."

"You can't." 

"I can," Porthos said. 

"No, just..." d'Artagnan took his shirt from Porthos and shrugged it on. 

"How often has this sort of thing happened before?" 

"Not often. And not like that! Normally it was just comments, and sometimes a few things during training." 

Porthos' eyes narrowed, as if a previous suspicion had suddenly been confirmed. It had never been brought up with d'Artagnan, but his alphas were aware of some of the things that had gone on, and suspected others. As d'Artagnan said nothing to any of them they left it alone, trusting the other Musketeers to regulate their behaviour. 

As soon as he was dressed, he started to saddle up Buttercup. Porthos watched him for a moment. 

"Are you going to the palace?" 

"No," d'Artagnan said, settling the saddle on Buttercup's withers. She turned her head to look at d'Artagnan, then angled her gaze at Porthos. 

"Never mind, get her saddled up, we'll walk from here and find somewhere. Athos's lodgings are not far, and he pays the landlady very well." 

"I don't want to stay here." 

"We're not going to d'Artagnan. Get yourself and your horse organised, and we'll get straight out of here." 

No one bothered them on the way out, although when Treville came out of his office and asked where they were going, Porthos glared up at him and pointed at the men in question. 

"Ask them." 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"I'm getting better!" Louis announced in delight. Looking up the Queen smiled, next to her Constance didn't look up from her needlework. d'Artagnan lowered his sword. 

"Yes, you are." 

Louis was. Treville had joked to d'Artagnan that the king often forgot what he was taught, but d'Artagnan had been training with the king through the summer, and if Treville's face was anything to go by d'Artagnan was doing a better job. 

"How are your other alphas?" Louis asked as they paused for a drink and a servant offered them some wine. 

"They are well." 

"They are not out of the city?" 

"No, Treville keeps them here, when I'm at the palace."

They were spending their time putting the rest of the Musketeers in their place, especially the group who had thought to punish him. The punishment had clearly been at the urging of some of the other Musketeers. Pierre had been appalled, when he had heard, and the rest of the omegas had made their distress obvious. They had played a far more subtle game, making their alphas even more protective of them, at the risk that anyone might use any excuse to abuse them. 

It would never happen to any other omega in the ranks, or beyond them. d'Artagnan was 'the feral', but it was the game the rest of them could play. Still he felt like something of a target every time he walked into the Garrison. So he had stayed away. 

If he didn't stay at the palace, Athos' lodgings were big enough and at least one of them stayed with him. 

"Are you all right?" d'Artagnan asked as they both took a break and moved over to the Queen, and Constance.

"Very well," the Queen said. "What about you?" 

The Queen had clearly heard everything. 

"I am fine. We are staying at Athos' lodgings." 

Constance's shoulders tensed, but she carried on sewing. The Queen looked at her. 

"I must speak to Louis," she informed her new companion. Constance looked up and smiled at the Queen, then she went back to her sewing, pretending that d'Artagnan was not lingering by her. 

"Constance," he eventually said. Her needle slowed and she slowly looked up. 

"Why are you angry at us?" The answer was obvious, but it might at least get her talking. 

"I do not need the Musketeers to run my life!"

"I know but..." 

"But I had nowhere to go, so you found a place for me." 

"It wasn't like that. The Queen needed someone, someone who wouldn't treat her like.... And Treville looked at you keeping your home, but with..." 

"With my husband gone, there was no business. I'm not a fool d'Artagnan!" 

"I know. But they all feel responsible for you." 

"Only you could have done this. I don't need your help." Constance hissed the words, in anger and frustration, but she felt shocked at the reaction as d'Artagnan's face flickered with hurt, then closed down, and he backed up away from her. 

"Fine."


End file.
